


Thesaurus Tuus

by atenebrae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Angels, Angst, Bittersweet, Dead John Winchester, Death, Despair, Doctors, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Heaven, Hell, Hellhounds, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, No Smut, Reaper Castiel, Reapers, Shapeshifting, Sick Dean, Sickness, Soul Bond, Souls, Spells & Enchantments, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Winged Castiel, Wings, Worry, no hunters, sensory loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenebrae/pseuds/atenebrae
Summary: Dean Winchester has everything to be happy: he works in his own bakery with his brother Sam and his sister-in-law Eileen, he has an ass-kicking, amazing mom, and friends he adores. He lives in a sweet little house outside the city with his dogs and enjoys his peace and bliss everyday. And as if it wasn't enough, Castiel, a stranger in town, entered his shop one evening and soon became the best friend he could ever hope for.But since when does Life give you everything you want?It begins with headaches, strong enough to split Dean's skull, and then the nosebleeds, the blackouts. Worry begins to grow inside him, and as the snowball effect wants it, his life begins to shatter piece by piece. Not only do the doctors discover a tumor in his brain, but this one will eventually lead to the loss of all his senses, and will be fatal in the end.Dean begins to lose all hope and taste for existence, but he will soon find out there's much to live for - especially when you have an angel hiding behind your best friend's eyes. And if Castiel knew Dean would die for months before even meeting him, he will too discover Fate is not invicible and that there's always another way, another road to take...





	1. An Abundance Of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So this is my new story!  
> To talk a little about it, it's a project that has been haunting me for MONTHS, and I just couldn't avoid it anymore. If you read the summary, you may think it'll be all kinds of depressing, but I assure you that, for once, my fic is not 100% tears and suffering. As for another disclaimer, I need to say that though I did some research, I'm not an expert in the medical area, and so you may read things that I invented for the sake of my story.  
> That said, I wish you a good reading and I hope you will enjoy! 
> 
> This story was inspired by the song "Thesaurus Tuus" by Daniel Hart!

 

 

**_ubi enim est thesaurus tuus ibi est et cor tuu_ **

“where your treasure is, there your heart will also be”

 

**X**

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open. The morning light was gently seeping through his eyelids, flooding golden into the room. A light, chilly breeze made the thin curtains float above the bed, the bright blue sky outside melting onto his still-heavy head.

He loved mornings like this. The kind that made him leave his dreams with tender fingers on his brain, the sun, the air like a low murmur in his blood. And though he would have liked to sleep for a few more minutes, it was still better than the gray, ashy winter days where he could barely swing an arm above the covers without freezing to death. 

He stretched his limbs with a groan and the second after, Colt, his puppy, jumped on him and began to lick his face in a very _gross_ way. Dean had adopted him a few weeks ago on an impulse and though he had reconsidered his decision as utterly stupid when he saw the dog ravaging his couch and shoes, he couldn’t help but smile at that huge ball of fur weighing down on his chest.

On his left side, Wesson, his other dog, nudged at his elbow. He was getting old, and his muscles were sore and tired, and Dean had to help him get onto the tall bed each evening. He gently pushed Colt aside and pat Wesson’s head, the dog closing his eyes of satisfaction.

“Just go through another day, OK buddy?” Dean murmured. He knew the time would come sooner or later, but he could not bring himself to accept it.

He gave Wesson a last pat before he got up. He winced at his tense back, before he dragged his bare feet across the wooden floor and arrived in the kitchen. He prepared some coffee and poured himself a cup, before he sat heavily on the couch. He watched the TV for a little while, rather staring unblinking at the bright colors and loud voices than really focusing on it.

He then went into the bathroom and took a quick shower before he got dressed. He had to be at work in thirty minutes, but he liked to take it easy. If he filled his body with stress at the first hours of the mornings, he would definitely not be able to focus for the rest of the day.

He was brushing his teeth when a dull pain started to bloom in his skull. He frowned. It was getting more and more frequent lately, these blows of fire in his head, sometimes making him wince, sometimes forcing him to sit for long minutes until it passed. He supposed he was a little sick, with winter arriving with quick steps, but to be honest, he was rather annoyed than alarmed.

He took a pill for the pain with some water and said goodbye to his dogs, before he got out of the house and shut the door behind him.

His home was surprisingly huge, and people usually wondered how he could afford it. The answer was that it was simply old as time itself. When he had bought it, he had to work on several things before even thinking of living in it. But now, years later, the days of dripping sweat and sore fingers were shown in the warmth and the comfort of the place.

 

He got into his car and began to drive into town. Technically, he was an inhabitant of Lawrence, Kansas, but his home was so far away from the center that his closest neighbors were the sheep in the great, green fields.

The radio sputtered some old rock and as the car swallowed the black road, he began to drift into his thoughts. He realized he felt incredibly calm, and just so well. He had lived pretty rough times, and he used to have a skull filled with the thickest darkness, but it was over now. He had been fragile and vulnerable like a newborn, and he had had his reasons. He had lost his dad in a car accident, and a few years after, Bobby, the man he admired most in the world, and the only real father he had in the end.

But now, as he parked the car in the center of the city, he took a deep breath and his heart was not heavy anymore. He got out and slammed the door behind him, the sun sliding on the car’s smooth black surface. The air was still a little fresh, but it was eased by a pleasant warmth, a caress from the last embers of the summer.

 

He raised a hand above his eyes to protect them from the raw sunlight. In front of him, the place where he worked nearly everyday. It wasn’t huge, but not too small either, with an authentic wooden front window, and in wide, golden letters he could read the familiar _Winchesters’ Heaven_ , and just underneath, the little _Bakery_. 

The bakery had been the fruit of several years of hard work, disappointments and obstacles, but also hope and unity. It had now become inevitable when you visited the city. It was a place where anyone could find themselves, old or young, small bird stomachs or wide eyes in front of the sweet pastries. 

It was their mother’s wish at the very beginning, to open this charming little place, but their father always refused, arguing it was foolish and a waste of time and money. In a way, his death had been the birth of an aborted dream. Now, she was just a little too old to run it on her own, so her boys had decided to follow her steps, and now she could come whenever she wanted, and the smile of pride on her lips when she entered the shop was everything they ever wished for.

 

Dean opened the glass door and the little bell hung above it rang with its clear, golden sound. He began to push the curtains and open the windows, letting the light flood in just like it did in his house. He stopped a moment and observed the city come to life behind the glass, the shutters slamming on the walls, the people hurrying not to be late, the children huddled together, trying to be warm while waiting for the school bus.

Dean had a small smile, before he began to prepare the shop for the opening. Sam had worked the whole afternoon the day before, and so Dean had suggested he would come earlier, giving his brother some extra sleep.

He cleaned the floor and counter a little, before taking the chairs from the tables and setting them all around. He rearranged the books and potted plants, turned on the several fairy lights they had hung all around the shop. This one had several tables to sit around, as well with stools by the counter and even soft, vintage armchairs for the lonely, quiet souls.

He then went into the kitchen and began to prepare a first batch of pastries to start the day. Sam would soon arrive with his wife Eileen who worked with them. Charlie and Benny, their two employees would also arrive in the beginning of the afternoon, as the brothers soon realize their rising popularity meant more work, and extra pairs of hands would not be so bad.

As he put some pies in the oven and began to make some cookies, his heart had something like a little sigh of ease. He felt so good in this kitchen. It was the place where he truly belonged. He loved the soft heat spreading into the room, the rich and sweet smells floating in the air, the sensation of his hands in the soft pastry, the fresh juice of the fruits against his fingers and the bright colors mixing in the bowls of icing.

He felt at home, there. He was whole. Humming low along the radio, he threw some flour on the marble table, ready to mold another pie. The bell rang in the entrance and Dean recognized the voices of his brother and his wife, chatting joyfully.

 

When they entered the room, Dean gave them an amused look, before raising his hands covered of white powder to them. “Who wants a hug?” he asked.

Eileen read the words on his lip and a bright laugh burst on her mouth. Despite Dean’s dirty hands, she walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Dean smiled and leaned his chin on her soft hair for a moment before Eileen stepped back.

He signed her hello and she raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re learning” she said, a small hint of mockery because _finally_ , but she was clearly touched by the attention.

“I try” Dean said, making sure he was still facing her. He then had a mischievous smirk. “I mean, it’s not like I have the choice. I don’t want Your Majesty to feel offended” he said.

Eileen slapped his arm before she laughed again and walked around him to grab her apron on the wall. Sam appeared in all his tall silhouette and eternal small smile. He gave his brother a hug before stepping back, looking around the kitchen. “You’ve been busy” he says, considering the pies cooling down on the counter.

“Well,” Dean says, turning back to his task, “I had to make up while you were having some beauty sleep. I heard it was good for hair, right?” he asked, pointing a floured finger at the locks of hair falling around his brother’s face.

Sam gave him an unamused face. “Very funny” he said, before his features melt back to sympathy and he gave Dean a concerned look. “Have you been sleeping well?” he asked and in this moment it was hard to tell who was the older brother anymore.

“Actually, yeah, I did” Dean said, and he was glad the lying days were over. He used to hide everything from Sam, always pretending to be fine for some stupid reason, or because of his pride, surely. “You?”

A small crease appeared on Sam’s forehead. “I’m worried about Mom.” 

Dean stopped. “What?” he asked, now filled with dread. “Why?” His eyes opened a little wider, Sam’s words sending him back to the terrible night where he had almost lost her. “Did something happen?” 

“No, no” Sam hurried to answer. “But she feels tired these days, and last time she came home she struggled to climb the stairs. She was breathless after that.” Sam gave his brother a small look. “ _Breathless_ , Dean. You know how Mom is, she could run a marathon and beat everyone at it.” 

Dean lowered his head, focusing on the bowl of icing. For a moment, he said nothing, only put a few drops of food coloring in it, watching the white turn into blue, pink, yellow.

“She didn’t tell me about it” he then said, looking a little bitter.

“She didn’t want to worry you” Sam answered, walking to put his own apron on. He then turned back to Dean. “And I’m not sure she even realizes her health isn’t good as it was.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, well, as you said Mom is damn strong, and I bet she could still kick ass in a wheelchair.” He raised his spoon, watched the thick tainted cream drip back into the bowl, before he looked back at Sam. “I will check on her tonight OK?”

Sam nodded and gave him a small smile. “Alright” he said before checking on his watch. “We open in an hour, so we better get going, right?”

Dean nodded and pushed his brother with his shoulder in a playful gesture. Sam rolled his eyes but still answered with an amused smile when Dean turned away. Together, they started baking and a perfect rhythm settled, silence only broke by the steady sound of spoons hitting bowls and the timer announcing another batch was ready.

 

This job took time, and was sometimes hard. Sure, there were worse places than among sugar and chocolate and warm coffee. But it also meant waking up early, and be ready to spend hours doing the same thing. There were also days where it was hard to keep a façade and be nice and welcoming and smiling to every single person entering the shop. But well, it was their dream and they loved what they did, so routine and early mornings weren’t a problem anymore.

 

The opening went on smoothly, a gentle flow of people coming in and out of the bakery without ever stopping. At this time of the morning, they mostly saw old ladies who came to pick up their usual loaves of bread, young teens grabbing a breakfast on their way to school or simply people enjoying some free time in front of a hot cup of tea and a plate of tiny choux buns filled with a soft vanilla-flavored cream. These ones could drive a man crazy.

Charlie and Benny arrived after lunch break, chatting about how the weather wasn’t right. It was just too happy, too sunny for a beginning of fall, and it was unsettling their winter-lovers souls. Dean smiled- seeing them together, each so different, no one could believe they were the best friends on earth.

Charlie was a small fairy of a woman, all bright laugh and bright eyes and bright hair, excited about everything and anything, while Benny was closer to the bear than the man, tall with broad shoulders, but a honey-soft heart. But they had met at the job interview for the Winchesters’ bakery and now they were inseparable.

 

Afternoon began to fall, slowly but surely and the whole team began to prepare new batches. Evening and nightfall meant a rush of people seeking comfort in sugar, exhausted after a day of work or school. There were some students, eating small pastries while their glasses were covered by the fog of their hot beverages, eyes lost in some captivating novels. There were old men hesitating on their order for several minutes before choosing the same lemon-flavored cake, just like every Monday. It used to annoy Dean, but once he learned these men brought the cakes home to their wives and enjoy it in the comfort of their little homes, he couldn’t help but feel his heart melt.

And of course people came for the pies. The best of the city, and the state even. They had become Dean’s specialty and he was always so proud when someone came up to him with some sort of emergency and said they _had_ to taste them, as if life couldn’t go on without doing so. And it was even better to see people coming back to buy other ones, as if it had been a life-changing experience. Needless to say, they had became the star of the bakery.

 

These very same pies also brought one of the biggest cataclysms in Dean’s life, even if he didn’t know it yet.

 

The evening was now completely settled and the steady flow of people had calmed. There were only a few clients left in the room, and Dean, Sam, Charlie and Benny were chatting around cups of coffee in the kitchen. The day had been pretty exhausting and their week of vacation during Christmas felt terribly far away. Eileen came back into the room. A young woman had burst into tears when she entered the shop and Eileen had immediately took care of her, settling her in one of the comfortable armchair with hot chocolate and a slice of cinnamon-flavored apple pie, and grief had flew away like a scared bird.

She was sitting when the bell rang. Everyone rose their heads and she sighed. “Someone just came in, isn’t it?” she asked as she got up again, the length of the day coloring her eyelids purple.

Dean was quicker. He stood up and walked around the counter. “Don’t worry, I got this” he said, making Eileen sit down again. She had a small smile and signed him thank you. Dean bowed comically at her and before she could throw him a dish towel, he exited the kitchen.

He arrived in the room, only illuminated by small lights on the walls and the cars passing outside. A man had his back facing him as he observed their bookshelves with interest. “Hi, what can I get you?” Dean asked, swallowing back a yawn.

The man turned back and approached the counter, eyes lowered to read the black board of the hot beverages. “Hello” he said in a low voice that resonated in Dean’s bones, before staying silent for a second. “A coffee to go, please” he said, finally raising his head to Dean.

Dean felt his heart missing a little beat. First because the man was a stranger. Well, of course Lawrence was not a really small city, but he more or less knew the people of the neighborhood and the ones used to come in the bakery. Then, because the blue eyes that stared back at him were so bright they seemed to glow in the dim light.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, uhm, sure. Anything else?” he asked, blinking the strange feeling in his chest away. He tried a smile. “We got the best pastries here. Between you and me, the pies are the best.”

The man’s lips broke into a smile. “Alright.” He gave a look to the pies behind the glass. “Which one do you recommend me?” he asked, his head slightly tilted on one side as he observed the pastries with some kind of genuine concentration.

Dean blinked quickly again. There was something profoundly unsettling about this man, and he couldn’t point what it was. Sure, his sharp features and low, deep voice and melting icy eyes were making Dean’s belly all gooey, but there was something _else_. Something in the way he moved without a sound and seemed to suck all the light in the room to make it shine around him. It was a strange sensation and Dean found himself speechless for one of the rare times in his life.

“Uhm” he began, now realizing he looked like an idiot, standing silent behind the counter, staring at the stranger like a creep. “Well, the cherry-bourbon one is pretty damn fine if you want my opinion.”

The man raised his head to look at him and he smiled again, setting fire to Dean’s lungs. “I will take a slice, then” the stranger said in this gentle voice of his.

Dean nodded and proceeded to take a slice of the cherry pie and put it in a small box. He then made some fresh coffee and while it was brewing, he leaned against the counter and observed the man, who was looking around the shop, hands buried in the deep pockets of his trench-coat. “You’re not from here, aren’t you?” he asked, his curiosity burning like spice on the tip of his tongue.

The man gave him an amused look. “No, I’m not” he said, before tilting his head once again. “How did you know?”

“I see a lot of people, but I think I’d remember if I’d seen you before” Dean answered before he realized what he was saying. He closed his mouth, heat rising to his face, but the stranger didn’t seem to mind. Dean cleared his throat. “So, what brings you in Lawrence? It’s pretty boring for tourists, I heard.” 

The man had a small laugh. “Business. Family” he answered, and Dean saw over the warmth of his voice that he was not going to explain any further. Dean then turned at the sputtering of the coffee maker and while he filled a travelling cup with the hot liquid, the man observed the room once again. “It’s a nice place” he said, his voice soft and quiet, almost wistful. 

Dean turned around and looked at the inside of the bakery. Really looked at it, as if he was seeing it for the first time. It was looking nice, for sure, but after spending so much time in it, he had begun to forget how welcoming and charming it looked. “Thanks” he answered, before placing the man’s order in front of him. He started to wish the moment not to end. “It’ll be 5$, please.”

The man pulled out some rumpled bills out of his pocket and set them on the counter. Dean grabbed a marker and looked at him. “What name should I put on that?” Seeing the stranger gave him a confused look, he shrugged. “People love that Starbucks kind of crap, you know, bringing your coffee with you and your name on it, to make sure it’s really yours.” 

The man actually broke into a laugh, a genuine, amused one and the light seemed to shine brighter in the room. “Well, then” he said, laughter lines around his clear eyes. “My name’s Castiel.”

Dean, who was about to write, looked at the man and rose an eyebrow. “That, I never heard before” he said, before writing it down, a small warmth settling in his belly now that he finally put a name on the stranger’s face. “Next time I’ll just write Cas or something” he said, before he realized how dumb he sounded. “I mean, if you come back one day, of course.”

Castiel smiled at him again. “It’ll depend if the pies are really worth it” he said, raising the little box.

Dean smirked and crossed his arms on the counter. “Well, I mean, you could come back for something else than the pies” he said, mentally hitting himself to be so ridiculous.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind and gave him a last look of his eyes like lighthouses in the ocean. “I will try that” he said, “Good evening, Dean.”

And before Dean could even ask him how he knew his name, he was gone, the darkness outside swallowing his silhouette and taking all the light with him. Dean stayed a moment against the counter, staring at the street outside as if Castiel could suddenly reappear, rushing into the warmth of the bakery because of an umbrella or a phone left behind. But the city was quiet and people were going home and this strange encounter was over.

 

It’s only when he ripped himself from his reverie that he saw Sam and the rest of the team staring at him, knowing smirks on their mouths. “You could have at least asked for his number” Charlie said, and this time it was Dean’s turn to throw the dish towel.

 

**X**

 

Castiel sat on his couch. The small flat he was renting was filled with darkness, the dim lights of the cars outside only casting small colors on the walls. He passed a hand in his hair, exhausted.

The past few days had been like a hurricane. He had drove for long hours and stopped many times, lost. Something was tugging at him in his gut, pointing at one direction and then another and he was getting tired of it. He was getting tired of being controlled by a vague feeling shaking in his soul.

His eyes fell on the box that he had put on the table. He pensively took a sip of his coffee and let all his body melt on the pillows. He had felt it, that invisible glow, that low murmur leading him to the bakery. At the second he had entered the place, he had knew it was not only the delicious smell or the small lights glimmering on the shelves that had drawn him inside.

He had observed the place, confused of the reason why his feet had walked him here, and then the man behind the counter had spoken and he had seen him, and he had known.

He had hidden the glimpses of dreams behind his eyelids as best as he could, but talking to that man, all he could think of was the terrible fate awaiting him. He had hoped he was wrong, because he had seemed so nice and so perfectly normal, and just so _happy_.

 

But it was him.

It was the same voice that had shouted in his dreams, the same sandy hair and the same bright green eyes that seemed to be fueled by a desperate desire to _live_.

 

He sighed and stood up. He went to the small desk in front of the large windows and picked up the tiny, rumpled piece of paper on it. On it, two words. A name he had scribbled when he had woken up one morning, finally grasping an important information in all that whirlpool of colors and sounds and sensations.

His belly had tugged at him, quiet but insistent, until he had finally arrived in Lawrence, Kansas. And then this evening his instinct had taken him in that small, warm bakery, and now part of his work was done.

“ _Good evening, Dean_ ” he had said, tasting the name on his tongue for the first time, and seeing the man’s surprised expression, he had not been wrong.

And when he had looked at the small box where the pie laid warm, he had seen the name Winchester, and he was certain.

 

He had finally found Dean Winchester, and it broke his heart in some way, but well, it was life. It was his job. His mission.

 

He sighed again. He thought about going to bed, but sleeping meant a new flooding of blinding details without meaning, a terrifying puzzle he had to understand, a door he had to unlock by building the key himself.

He finally came to pick the pie and put it on his desk. He grabbed a fork and tried a bite.

He smiled. As Dean had said, it was _pretty damn good_. It filled him with even more grief, knowing what was to come.

As he watched the traffic cast his ever-lasting lights on the bare walls, he thought that maybe he wasn’t made for that job, after all. Not that he chose it, so maybe his very nature was _wrong_ for him. Maybe he had been created in the wrong factory, maybe he was the one dysfunctional machine among them all.

He took his trench-coat off and there was a wide _whoosh_ sound. A few feathers came to float around him and one even landed on his plate. It seemed to taunt him, pale among the melting cherries tainted of alcohol.

 

He pushed his plate away. He wasn’t very hungry anymore, and he had all the reasons to. Tomorrow, a journey began, for him at least. Dean’s would come, sooner or later, and unfortunately, Castiel was going to be at the very front row of that cursed show.

 

**X**

 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Dean frowned. “Like what?”

His mother gave him a dark look. “Like I’m an old lady already.”

“I’m not looking at you like that.”

“Yes, you are” she answered, her clear blue eyes observing him intensely. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?” Dean said, taking a sip of his coffee. He was surprised by a sudden blow of pain in his skull but he barely flinched, trying not to worry his mother in any way. Still, these headaches were getting more than annoying.

“It’s Sam isn’t it?” Mary asked, squinting at her son. “I know it’s Sam. He told you he was worried for me and he told you to talk to me.”

“What? No! I mean-” Dean began before seeing the look in his mother’s eyes. The look that said she already knows. “Alright, he’s worried, and now I am too.” His voice grew serious. “Are you OK?” 

His mother sighed and drank a little from her Irish coffee before she spoke. “Listen, Dean. I know I’m not thirty anymore, and I know I’m going to be old someday. Am I feeling tired some days? Sure. Does my all body hurt when I get up? Yeah. But I’m not feeling _bad_ , if that’s you ask.”

“Yeah, but how can you be sure something’s not wrong?”

Her mother smiled at him. “Don’t think I don’t worry for myself too. I went to the doctor yesterday and he told me everything was alright. Sure, I’m not as healthy as I used to be, but I can still kick some asses” she said, making Dean laugh. Her features melted into tenderness and she put her hand on his. “I’m not leaving you now, alright?”

Dean nodded and his worry vanished. He had to keep faith, no matter what. Everything was alright. There was no reason to have dark thoughts about the future.

 

Later in the morning, the pain in his skull grew hotter and as he swallowed some pills to cool it down, he remembered his mother’s words. He always worried about everyone, but never himself. After all, he never had much reasons to, and his family and friends were all that mattered.

The end of the morning was incredibly busy. There just were times like that were people came rushing in for no particular reasons, as if they all had been drawn there by a common instinct stronger than them.

Dean was helping Sam packing the pastries and serving the clients. His mind was full, trying to be both careful and fast, while always remembering to smile and be nice to people. The damn pain appeared again, like background music in his head, but he bit his tongue and carried on.

The bell kept on ringing, the people entering, the noise growing and he was a little lost in that hurricane. That’s why he jumped when a familiar voice resonated in his overflowing ears.

“Hello.”

Dean rose his head and his eyes crossed bright blue one’s. His breath was caught in his lungs. “Oh, hi” he said, and Castiel smiled at him. He still wore his pale trench-coat, and his hands were hidden in the deep pockets of it. “I guess the pies were worth it, weren’t they?”

“I guess they were” Castiel answered, specks of light dancing in his irises. “I came to get a full on, now.”

Dean rose an eyebrow, a slight twitch in his heart. “Bringing it to the wife and kids?” he asked, half curious, half deceived.

Castiel shook his head. “No. I get hungry when I work. Or when I’m stressed. Which is probably the same.”

Dean gave him a smile, almost relieved. “Yeah, I get that” he said, before he raised his pie server. “Which one will help you feel better?”

“The best you have” Castiel said, “Well, after the cherry one, of course” he added with a grin. Dean stared at him, dumbstruck, and he definitely couldn’t believe how well he got along with Castiel. 

“Well then...” he said, lowering to the showcase. He was about to take the small pecan pie he had just made when the pain in his head suddenly exploded and he had to shut his eyes, all the air in his lungs thrown out, fire bursting in his veins.

 

Castiel’s voice arrived to him, but it seemed so far away, like separated by a thick layer of clouds. “Are you alright?” he asked, worry visibly piercing in his words. 

“Yeah.” Dean opened his eyes slowly again, and managed to get the pie in a box, and take the money from Castiel. The room started to spin around him, and his body was hot, sweat beading on his spine.

“Maybe you should take a break?” Castiel suggested, observing Dean with wide eyes.

“Yeah, but I have work and-” Dean began before the headache grew even stronger, taking the words right from his mouth.

“You have to take care of yourself, Dean” Castiel answered, his eyes growing darker.

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, deciding. He then sighed and turned to Sam. “Hey” he said and his brother turned to him, his expression questioning. “I’m just taking five minutes outside, can you continue without me?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure” he says, before he frowned. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah” Dean answered quickly, hating to lie to his brother, but in this moment he just wanted to get outside and not worry Sam.

 

He took his apron off and went around the counter. He opened the door and sat on the bench against the store front. He buried his face in his hands and breathed deep through his nose, each gulp of cold air like a punch in his brain. 

“Mind if I join you?” he heard and he raised his head to see Castiel in front of him, his silhouette dark against the raw light of the day.

“Go on” he said, gesturing at the space next to him. When Castiel sat next to him, his shoulder brushed against his and his warmth anchored Dean in reality, and for a second he felt better, nausea backing away from his throat.

A moment of silence passed where they just watched the cars drive before them, the sun shining, the children laughing. Then, Castiel turned his head to him. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked in a soft voice, and his question was not morbidly curious, but genuinely worried.

Dean shook his head, and this tiny move was like a box of needles swinging in his brain. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been having these headaches and they hurt like a bitch.” He shook his head again, before he turned to Castiel. “Sorry, I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

“You’re not” Castiel answered, his eyes blue of a sudden sorrow, and Dean felt his heart twitch. It was if Castiel knew something, something Dean didn’t and it made him feel strange.

He pushed his feelings away. “Please, distract me. You know what they say, ignore your problems until they disappear.”

Castiel had a little laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know” Dean answered, tangling his fingers together, pressing them hard to focus on something else than the fire in his head. “What do you do in life?”

“Well, I can tell you, but it’s not very happy.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Castiel sighed, almost imperceptibly. “Well, I… I accompany people who are dying. These people are often sick, and for days, weeks, or sometimes months, I make sure they live as best as they can.”

Dean stared at him, his eyes full of curiosity. “Like some kind of social worker?”

Castiel gave him a smile. “Yes, you could say that.”

 

Dean ripped his stare from Castiel and looks at the street instead. He saw excited children and stressed mothers, rushed businessmen and old ladies, and he had the gloomy thought that one day none of them will be there anymore.

“I never heard of that” he said in a low voice. He turned back to Castiel. “It must be hard. I mean, sort of depressing.”

“It can be” Castiel answered and suddenly he looked so far away, eyes lost into space. “Most of the time, I just provide them what they need from afar. Medicine, food, distractions. But I rarely come in person.” He gave Dean a sad look. “The key to handle that job is not to get attached.”

“I bet” Dean answered, “But hey, sometimes easier to say than to do.” 

Cas stared at him, blinking several times. “Yes” he answered in a breath before looking away. “But well, you get used to it. It’s like… not walking among humans anymore.” 

Dean nodded. “It sounds great. I mean, depressing, sure. But you actually do something for people.” He turned with a gentle smile to Castiel. “That’s pretty admirable.” 

Castiel looked at him in return. “Thank you. I always thought that we never cared enough about the dead. We’re often so focused on the ones that will be left behind that we forget the ones who actually leave.” His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. “But well, it’s nothing much. I admire people like you, who can bring joy to people, no matter what.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. “I make _pies_.”

“No” Castiel answered, “You do what you love, and you share that passion through your work. You don’t keep it to yourself, you give to others, and it may not seem like much, but you can change someone’s day by what you do.”

Dean stared at him, speechless. “Man,” he finally said, stunned, “That’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about my job.” 

“It’s true.” 

“Well, maybe, but people, you know engineers and high staff and all, they usually look down on things like that.”

“Well, they are wrong” Castiel said with a grin, and the sun seemed to drip from his lips. “People would kill for your pies, I’m sure.” 

Dean burst of laughing, his belly filling with light and gold. “So they were worth it?” he asked, turning to Cas, laughter lines around his green eyes. 

“Definitely” Castiel answered.

 

Dean’s smile only widened and he leaned back on the bench, feeling lighter than ever. He then realized his headache was gone and he looked back at Castiel, beaming. “Hey, guess ignoring actually worked?”

Castiel smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Dean sighed of ease, before he looked at his watch. “Damn, I didn’t realize we were gone for so long.” He got up, and Castiel did the same. “Sorry, I have to get back, or Sam is going to murder me” he says with an apologizing smile.

“I understand” Castiel answered, the wind moving some strands of hair around his head, like a crown. Or a halo, with the golden daylight shining on his silhouette. “Well, I hope it won’t be too hard, and that you won’t get any more headaches.”

“Damn, me too” Dean answered, and he paused for a second, swinging on his feet and suddenly he seemed nervous. “Maybe… maybe you could come back some time soon? I mean, maybe outside of work, if you’d liked?” he asked, a ball of iron suddenly weighing down on his throat.

But at his greatest surprise, Castiel smiled even wider. “I’d like that very much” he says.

Dean had a sigh of relief. “You can give me your number, so that will be easier?”

“Of course” Castiel answered, and just like that Dean had finally gotten _the_ number. 

He stepped back, grinning like an overjoyed child. “Well, then thanks for the company. I hope you’ll have some free time soon.” 

“I hope too” Castiel answered, grabbing the pie under his arm. He gave Dean a warm look. “Goodbye Dean.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “I wanted to ask you. How did you know my name yesterday?” 

Castiel had a soft laugh. “It was written on your apron.”

Dean blinked, dumbstruck. “I’m freaking stupid. Sorry” he said, heat rising to his cheeks. He caught the sight of his brother staring at him through the window with an amused look that could only mean trouble. “I gotta go. Bye, _Cas_ ” he said, giving the man a last mischievous look.

 

Castiel smiled at him and turned back. Dean watched him go despite himself, even after Cas’ tan trench-coat disappeared in the crowd. He entered the shop so light-hearted that he didn’t even remember that he wasn’t wearing his apron the night before. Meaning Castiel didn’t have any chance to know his name.

But with the headache gone and his heart filled with sunlight, he wouldn’t notice anything.

 

**X**

 

Days passed and Castiel came again, to Dean’s greatest joy. Thing was, he felt incredibly good with him. It’s not that he wasn’t unhappy before, but Cas’ presence was like the last little piece missing, someone to confide in, a door to escape the little worries of everyday.

 

The first time he texted him, it was late and he couldn’t sleep. He was turning around in his bed, waiting for the pills he had just swallowed to ease the now constant pain in his skull. He had glanced at his phone on the bedside table, and he had thought for a long moment before he had picked it up and wrote a message to Castiel. He was just asking him if he wanted to hang out the day after, but as he was about to press send, he froze and suddenly he felt so strange. As if he had the future of the universe in his hands. He had sighed and sent the message, before slamming the phone back on the bedside table.

He had not expected Cas to answer, but this one actually did, barely a few minutes after. He had accepted, and sent a smiling emoji after. Dean had started at the screen, dumbstruck. His thumbs seemed to burn and suddenly he had the _need_ to write more. He had asked Cas if he wasn’t sleeping yet, and Cas had answered, and then it was done.

Two hours later, Dean had to say goodbye, for his eyelids were so heavy of sleep he was barely seeing what he was writing anymore. Cas had wished him a good night and Dean had fallen asleep with a big grin on his mouth, phone still warm on his belly.

The day after, they had met and Dean looked as if he had not slept in centuries, while Cas looked perfectly awake and fine, which was utterly _unfair_. They had met around a coffee while the shop was closed, and Dean had found he could listen to Cas talk for hours.

 

The guy was a mystery. His whole being seemed to be a maze with a surprise popping at each corner. He was the kind of person who could talk with ease about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon or the destruction of Pompeii, with so much passion and details Dean started to think he had been there. His knowledge seemed to have no limits and Dean listened to him like a child to his teacher, wide-eyed and barely breathing.

Yet, Cas didn’t seem to notice and he was looking at Dean the same way when this one talked about his childhood, all funfairs and dripping ice-creams, joys and tears and angers, heartbreaks and victories. Dean could barely believe the awe in Cas’ concentrated expression as he would talk about random things, at least to him, like Netflix or pizza or vinyls.

When Cas had told him he had never listened music from a record player, Dean’s eyes had opened wide and the second after, he was dragging him to the small, dusty shop around the corner, grabbed a few new vinyls and drove to his house. Together, they listened at the record play for hours, and there was so much comfort in this lack of discussion that Dean felt himself fall into a deep, warm abyss and they both ended up laying on the soft wooden floor, dangerously close to each other.

They kept on texting, and it was one of Dean’s favorite things. Sometimes he was too busy at work, or Cas was somewhere else, and sometimes he felt a little down, but the buzzing of his phone would awake every nerve in his body. His brother and the rest of the team started to tease him but he didn’t mind.

 

Everything was going perfectly fine until one night.

 

He was brushing his teeth before going to bed and he lowered his head to read Cas’ new message, wishing him good night. He smiled and then one dark, red drop fell on the screen. He frowned and looked closer, and then a second drop joined the other.

Blood.

Dean’s heart froze and he put the phone down. He thought for a second and then more droplets fell and they didn’t seem to stop, staining the white tiles of his bathroom floor. He then felt something warm dripping on his lip and he wiped his nose, retrieved his hand only to find it covered by the same thick, dreadful liquid.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the smear of bright blood on his face, flowing from his nose to follow its road on his mouth and drip from his chin.

He couldn’t hold back the gasp of shock his throat had shaped. He quickly grabbed a towel and held it to his face. And as if the evening wasn’t bad enough, the room began to spin, the colors around him becoming shooting stars, his head becoming heavy and loud and so damn slow.

He slowly sat on the floor, breathing slowly, the towel still pressed to his nose. He was shivering violently, his arms covered by goosebumps, his legs trembling. His belly felt hollow, shaking with black oil and he felt sweat running down his back, sticky and burning.

He felt tears rise to his eyes. What the hell was happening to him?

He was so rarely sick that he could count on one hand how many times he caught a cold or some foolish thing of the sort. But now, he was shaking and his head burned like an inferno and now he had goddamn nosebleeds.

He didn’t know for how long he stayed like this, sitting against the cool bathtub, eyes closed, breaths weak and trembling, forehead damp and hot. When it felt like an eternity had passed, he slowly removed the towel from his face, the white fabric stained with dark, dried blood. At least, his nose had stopped bleeding, but he was still feeling so empty and tired, as if he had been drained of all his life force.

He slowly stood up, limbs trembling like a child’s, before he went straight to his room and curled up into bed, arms pressed close against his chest. His dogs came to lick his face and he barely had the strength to pass his fingers in their furs, before he fell into a deep, agitated slumber.

 

Dean’s worry continued to grow everyday, like a beast in his belly, devouring all his strength. The headaches were getting worse, bringing him down to his knees as if thousands of angels shrieked in his ears. He tried to control it with as much painkillers as he could, but he couldn’t get much without seeing a doctor. And he refused to see one. To go would mean that something was truly wrong with him and he couldn’t think of all the things that could go wrong.

 

But it turned out that the pain scorching his head and the nosebleeds were just the beginning.

 

One morning, he was helping Sam in the kitchen, and he was feeling quite alright. His vision was clear, his hands were not shaking and there was no boiling nausea in the back of his throat. And then, he felt a little cold, a little faded from the world and the second after Sam was grabbing him, panic-stricken, holding him still.

“What.. what happened?” Dean asked, his eyes glancing around the room, completely lost.

“You passed out!” Sam said, looking at Dean with pure fear painted on his features. When he saw Dean could stand without his help, he stepped back, but not too far away, all his nerves tense and burning. “I looked away one second and the next your eyes were rolling and if I didn’t catch you, you’d have fallen on the floor!”

Dean felt his blood freeze in his veins, but he took a deep breath and managed a smile. “I’m OK, I swear.” He gave his brother a look that said that it was already forgotten. “I’m probably just low on sugar” he said, and he bit into a cookie to prove his point.

Sam stared at him, skeptical, but seeing Dean going back to his work without worry, he sighed and did it too, though his heart was still beating like a war drum in his chest. 

But it wasn’t a one-time thing. It kept on happening. Again and again. Most of the time, Dean was home, on the morning on after a long day of work, and suddenly he felt his body turning cold and heavy and he would wake up a minute after on the floor, completely disoriented.

It would happen at the bakery too, but he now knew the signs. When a chill covered his skin and his bones felt like solid gold in his body, he would discreetly slip away and take deep breaths outside until it passed. In the worst cases he’d run to the small room that was empty and sit on the floor, let his spirit shut down before he’d come alive again, and he’d come back to work as if nothing had happened.

 

But came a time where he realized he couldn’t wait anymore.

 

He had invited Cas over to binge-watch _Stranger Things_ , and he was starting to think all this chaos in his body was just a tiny virus that was messing with him. He didn’t have any nosebleeds in days, and he had not fainted in over a week. The headaches were still there, but fainter, and he could manage that. 

He had laughed, drank beer and, even if he didn’t admit it, rather watch Cas all wide-eyed and mouth half open than the screen itself. He had felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and then he had woke up with the first lights of the mornings piercing through the windows he had forgot to close.

He had turned and his breath had gone thin when he had seen Cas had fallen asleep next to him, curled up on the couch, his body strangely small, his lashes fluttering quickly as if he was in the middle of a vivid dream. Dean had barely hold a smile back and he had gotten up to grab a blanket. 

He had draped it over Cas before he had went to the bathroom. Right after, he went to the kitchen to drink some water. His body felt a little hot, but nothing too serious, and the water felt incredibly good, cooling the furnace away.

 

He had finished his glass and was going to put it down in the sink, ready to go back to sleep, when the pain burst in his head. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, body bent in two, tears gathering in his eyes as he gasped for air, slowly crumbling to his knees. The glass fell down from his hand to crash loudly on the floor, breaking in a dozen of small pieces.

He sat against the furniture, the suffering spreading in his whole body. He wrapped his arms around his belly, feeling like it could split in two and his guts and blood would spill on the tiles. His skin was covered of goosebumps but he felt like burning, and suddenly he was shaking uncontrollably. He felt the sobs shaping in his throat, and he didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know what he had done to deserve that. 

His chest felt too tight, his heart beating like a maniac, pushing his ribs, and his lungs were filled with acid, spilling on his bones, making him hurt to the very core of his being. He felt something warm running down his face and he wiped it, only to discover that dreadful blood staining his skin.

He felt like breaking down, breaking in two, and his head hurt so bad he just wanted it to shatter, let his brains and soul flow on the floor in a sticky, black matter. He thought of his mom, and Sam and all his friends and he wondered, was he going to die like this? Right now, on his kitchen floor, blood pooling under him, burning tears still stuck behind his eyelids?

He saw the room becoming more and more blurry and he had a strangled sob. He started when he heard his name, and for a second he thought he had dreamed it, but when he turned his head in an incredibly painful move, he saw Castiel entering the kitchen before he sat beside him, eyes wide and worried.

“Dean?” he said, and in that tiny word Dean heard all the questions Cas asked himself.

 

He could barely speak, the nausea like a monster in the back of his mouth, his skull hurting as if it was pierced by thousands of blades, his muscles melting underneath, his blood boiling wildly.

He turned his head to Cas, vision blurred by fear and frustration. “I think there’s something wrong with me” he whispered, and Cas gave him a look so sorrowful he felt like dying for good.

 

**X**

 

On the morning, Dean called Sam to tell him he was taking a day off. His brother sounded suspicious on the phone and asked many questions. But Dean brushed his worry away, telling him he had drunk a little too much the evening before and it’d be a disaster if he came to the bakery.

When he hung up, he felt so sick of himself. He had never lied to his brother, so why was it changing? Why were the words meaningless and foolish in his mouth, why couldn’t he say the right thing?

His eyes stared into space as Castiel drove him to the doctor. He felt Cas’ glances on him, but neither of them spoke. There was something heavy, suffocating even in Cas’ golden car, words left unsaid, things they were too afraid to say, because that would make all these terrible, black-as-the-night thoughts real. 

When Dean got out of the car, he felt his heart being squeezed by some evil force and he could barely breathe. He turned back to Cas, shivering even under the bright sun and warm breeze.

“You can go home if you want, I’m thankful enough that you drove me here...” he said, and though he didn’t want to bother Cas any further, he was terribly afraid of being alone now. 

Cas gave him a weak smile. “He doesn’t bother me to stay,” he said, “I get it.” 

Dean nodded before he turned back and took a deep breath. He observed the doctor’s practice and he felt his soul sink a bit lower behind his ribs, trembling in the shadow.

In the waiting room, he couldn’t keep his leg from bouncing nervously, his fingers from tangling with each other. Cas’ presence next to him was soothing him a little, but it was barely keeping all his worry at bay. When the doctor called his name, he gave Cas a last look and Cas smiled at him, his eyes nearly glowing in the dim, warm light of the room.

 

When Dean sat, the doctor Garcia gave him an amused look behind his glasses. “Dean” he said, before looking at his computer’s screen. “Last time I saw you, it was only for some vitamins, and it was ages ago.” He looked back at Dean, his brown eyes soft and honest. “I don’t see your brother much either, but he still comes more often than you.” 

“Well, what can I say, viruses just don’t like me” Dean joked, but the iron ball of anxiety in his belly weighed down even more, squeezing his guts, pressing the juicy blood, making it flow free. 

The doctor laughed. “Well, then, what can I do for you?” 

Dean’s smile faded despite himself. He looked down at his hands on his lap, and he tied his fingers so tight they became white. He cleared his throat before he looked away, at anything but the doctor.

“I, uhm, I’ve been feeling kind of wrong lately.” His lungs were crushed and suddenly he realized the gravity of his situation, and the words flow. “I’ve got these headaches that split my head, and then I got those damn nosebleeds. And now, I black out at any time of the day, and it’s getting worse. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell is going on with me, and maybe I just caught a goddamn cold and I’m overreacting” he said and he finally looked at the doctor with a small smile of hope.

 

This one stared at him without a word, all smile and light in his eyes gone, pure shock painted on his features. “Dean...” he said, and Dean’s heart missed a beat. He knew what that tone in his voice meant. It was the kind people used when they were about to announce some really bad news.

“It’s not a cold, isn’t it?” Dean asked, his voice strangled in his throat.

“I-” the doctor began before looking at Dean, shaking his head, closing his eyes for a few seconds. “I’m not sure, to be honest with you.” He looked back at his screen, distancing himself from Dean, leaving him alone in his disarray. “I’m going to get you an urgent appointment at the hospital.”

Dean felt so little and insignificant, each word slamming the nail deeper into his heart. “For what?” he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

The doctor turned to him, very slowly, his eyes now somber and sorrowful. “Really, anything they can do to find out what is happening to you. I may have an idea, but I truly, truly hope I’m wrong, Dean.”

Without further explanation, he handed Dean a letter to give to the doctors at the hospital and when he shook his hand, he squeezed it a little harder than usual and his voice sounded so distant when he said, “I saw you when you were just a boy… But look at you now. You’ve grown up well” he said, and his eyes were strangely shiny. “Just tell Mary, Sam and Eileen I said hello, alright?”

“No problem” Dean answered, unsettled by his attitude. He still smiled at him and got out of the cabinet.

 

He gave Cas a look from the hallway and he understood without words. They got out of the building and Dean used all his strength not to break. He wanted to shout, to cry, to kick something and let all his frustration flow freely.

“What did he say?” Cas asked, his eyes searching Dean’s.

Dean turned to him, breaths short and painful. “I have to get to the hospital. Tomorrow.”

Dean saw that Cas tried to control his reaction as much as possible but he still saw the way his features became slack, his eyes more shiny than usual. “I’ll come with you if you want” he said, firmly despite the slight shaking in his voice.

“I don’t want to take more of your time, Cas” Dean said, before sighing deeply. “But I’d be lying if I said I wanted to face that crap alone.” He looked back at Cas, eyes hopeful. “You will come?”

“Of course,” he answered, and Dean suddenly heard a soft rustling sound, as if a bird had spread its wide wings near them. But when he looked up, there was nothing above, only the wide and cold blue sky.

 

**X**

 

Everyone knows the snowball effect. It’s that image of that tiny ball of frozen snow rolling and rolling down the mountain, and it’s so tiny it looks innocent. But more and more snow comes rolling with it and suddenly it’s a threat and it can crush a whole village in the valley.

That was what was happening to Dean. First, there was the headaches, and he had not worried. Everyone’s head hurt sometimes. But then came the nosebleeds and the blackouts, and he knew that wasn’t normal. But never did he thought all his world would come crashing down in one afternoon.

 

He had hard time falling asleep, and he had woken up when the morning was still so dark and mysterious. He had moved his sore body a little, only to realize Cas’ head had fallen on his shoulder. He had frozen, so afraid of disturbing him. For a few minutes, he had listened to his soft breathing and enjoyed the warmth of him, and he had felt so well, so peaceful. He had slipped back into slumber, appeased for now.

But then the snowball had kept rolling and he had lied in the CAT scanner and the sound was loud he had been afraid his ears would pop and bleed into a pool around his head. And then he had waited and waited, and drank so many tasteless coffees that his mouth felt furred, his teeth rotten.

Cas had been there with him for the whole time, and though he was still immensely thankful of his presence, Dean started to feel something bubbling in his belly. It had gotten stronger when he had looked at Cas from afar, the cold neon lights from the hospital shining on Cas’ hair and for a small second Dean swore it had shaped into a ring around his head, making him look unearthly. It had turned into a fire when he had woken up from a short nap with his head against Cas’ shoulder, and Cas had smiled him, and _shit_ , maybe he should tell the doctors about the way his heartbeats quickened without reason.

 

The snowball had finally stopped its frantic race when he sat in the doctor’s office. Or rather it came to its most destructive step.

 

Her name was Doctor Yamini, and her eyes were as soft as Doctor Garcia’s the day before. She spoke in a low, comforting voice, and Dean knew it was not for nothing. She was about to tell him something that would most probably destroy him.

He looked away, now uncomfortable, his eyes settling on the shelves crumbling under heavy books, or the walls color of pale lavender. Anything but the doctor’s face that was just a reminder of the hole he was falling into.

“Dean” the doctor softly said, bringing his attention back to her. She had that soft aura around her, something comforting and almost motherly. “Before I say anything about the results, I want to tell you are not alone. You have your family, your friends, your colleagues. And if you need anything, we are here for you.” Seeing Dean’s confused look, she has a small sigh. “It’s just that… some patients react very badly to what I’m about to tell you, and… I just want you to know your life is not over.”

Dean nodded, swallowed hardly. His lungs were tight and he could barely breathe, only have a small, stupid smile as if it was all a big mistake, a great joke that could end at any moment.

 

And then the snowball hit the village down the mountain and his brain shut down, only allowing a few words – the worst – to enter his mind.

 

_Spotted mass… Abnormal…...Brain tumor…Very rare...Lead to sensory loss… All senses to disappear… Tumor to grow…No possible cure..._

_Fatal._

 

Dean blinked. It was if all the air in the room had been sucked out. Each word had been a drop of poison in his veins, and if he wasn’t sitting, he would have fallen to his knees.

He gathered the last spark of strength in his body. “How much do I have left?” he asked, looking down so the doctor wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes.

“A year” she said, and her voice sounded truly afflicted. “Maybe less.”

“Alright” Dean said, and he stood up.

The doctor got up immediately and walked around her desk. “Dean, listen, I know it’s a lot to take, but we have solutions here. You could begin chemotherapy as soon as possible and maybe it could give you some more time. We had some really promising results so far.”

“I don’t-” Dean began, before shaking his head. He didn’t want to talk about it now. He just wanted to get away from that place. “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Doc” he said, and he left her office.

 

He crossed the corridor in the oncology section of the hospital in hurried steps. On his way, he saw a young girl reading a magazine in a waiting room, her hair completely gone. A few meters after, he saw a man breaking into tears as he spoke to a doctor. He nearly choked on his breath. Was it what was going to become of him? A shell of a human, someone his family and friends would have to look after 24/7, someone that would hurt them even after his death?

He hurried even more and ran down the stairs, his heart on the edge of his lips. He wanted to throw up, to push that sickness away, because now it had a name, now it was real, and it was not going away. It was a demon with its claws sinking deep into his brain, devouring it bite after bite, and soon he wouldn’t feel a damn thing.

When he arrived near the waiting room where he had left Cas, this one was gone, and his pulse raced of fear. He made a few more steps, his vision becoming blurry at the edge, sweat beading on his spine and if Cas had left, he wasn’t sure he could handle that alone.

 

He finally spotted his silhouette in front of a coffee machine, staring at it pensively as if it was holding all the secrets of the universe. Dean was far away, but Cas suddenly turned back, as if he had sensed his arrival.

“Hey” he said, and a smile broke on his lips, “I was going to take a coffee, do you want-” he began but his words died on his tongue when Dean collapsed against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his back.

Cas lost his breath and suddenly the room was spinning and something new burst inside him. He had to use all his strength to hide his nature and keep a new rustling of feathers away. He wrapped his own arms around Dean’s shoulders and he froze when he felt something damp and hot on his neck, realizing a few seconds later it was _tears_.

It unsettled him even more, as Dean had told him he was often uncomfortable with effusions of affection, especially in public. He just didn’t know how to react, and he never initiated it, in fear the other person would react badly.

But there, Dean was clinging to him, his fingertips diving into his coat, his face buried in his collar. “I don’t want to die” he said between two sobs, and Cas felt his heart sink in his chest.

It’s not like he didn’t know that was going to happen. He knew that Dean Winchester would die, he had known it for months, even before he had met him. But now he was hit by the terrible reality of it, and worse than that, he was losing a friend for the first time.

Dean’s suffering was seeping like darkness from his skin and Cas could barely handle it, his soul recoiling at the bitter taste of it. But he held onto Dean as strongly as he could.

 

When they got home after a long, silent ride, Dean stumbled to the couch and immediately fell asleep on it, tears now dried streaks on his face. Cas sighed and sat beside him. He looked so worried, even in sleep, his brow furrowed and his eyelids shut tight.

Cas made sure Dean was deeply asleep and he let his nerves unraveling, each bit of grace exploding in the room.

 

With a great _whoosh_ , his wings spread behind him, feathers glowing in the dark, white and translucent like the full moon, brighter than the stars on the night sky.

He turned back to Dean and with caution, he curved a wing on his back, covering him like a heavenly blanket, and only then Dean seemed to let go of all the worries born in the daylight, and he finally breathed freely for the first time of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of the first chapter! I have to say that the next ones will definitely be shorter, as this one needed to start all the action.  
> Anyway, I hoped you enjoy and don't hesitate leaving your thoughts and comments! :)


	2. Poison-Truth

 

Castiel’s lashes fluttered on his cheeks, his eyes rolling behind the thin skin of his eyelids. The visions had always been vivid, but the closer he got to Dean, the more torturous they became. They would soften, eventually, when he’d come close to the end of his mission, but that, he tried not to think about it.

For now, he was tangled in his dreams, lost in the terrible mess of it. It was a whirpool of blurry information and sharp, burning details, and most of it didn’t make any sense on its own. It was a twisted game he had to play to understand it. He tried to rip himself from the dream, but it was incredibly strong, holding all his body and grace down, chaining it in the grave Sleep had made for him.

Suddenly, the flow of colors and sounds slowed down, but the pain grew hot and boiling in his head. Here and there he got glimpses of Dean’s future, a road marked by hopelessness yet many battles, and he saw him weep and shout and smile and live. And then the ache came rushing stronger than ever, and he saw Dean looking up at him and exhale one last time and his body got limp and he simply ceased to be.

And then his dream glitched, spat and crackled, black and white and then bright and blinding, and suddenly another vision overlaid with the usual one. He was by Dean’s side and he was so close he could feel his warmth flowing on his own skin. And then Dean exhaled one last time, but there Castiel felt his dream self move and suddenly there was a strong blow of raw light, and the dream was broken.

 

Castiel woke up with a start and sat in the bed, panting. Sweat was dripping in his back and he could barely breathe, shaken to the core. Never in his whole existence his visions had shattered like this. What was happening? Was he broken? Or worse, was something going to happen to Dean, disturbing all that he had predicted?

He shivered violently, filled by a cold he could not chase away. He felt hollow, sick to the bone. He didn’t want to see Dean suffer and then die, but he was tied down, and he could not bring himself to leave and only observe the situation from afar now. _Don’t get attached_ , he thought with a bitter laugh.

_Easier to say than to do_ , Dean had said, and maybe he had been right all along.

 

Castiel sighed and was about to fall back into sleep when he heard a soft breathing near him. Startled, he turned around, only to see Dean curled up on the other side of the bed, one arm outstretched, fingers spread towards Castiel, as if to touch him.

Cas felt his breath get stuck in his throat, before he remembered the evening before. He had woken up a second before Dean, with only enough time to hide his wings and move away from him. Dean had looked so vulnerable in that moment he had felt his heart being squeezed by ice and iron.

 

Dean had decided to take a drink, but it has soon turned into several. Fortunately, he had managed to stop himself before it was too late and went to bed. Cas went to check on him and say goodbye, and Dean had stayed silent for a moment before he had asked him to stay, his eyes nearly imploring.

It had felt like someone had punched Cas in the stomach and he had stared at Dean, speechless.

This one’s cheeks had flared to red and he had lowered his eyes, pain flashing through his features. “I’m sorry, you’ve done enough, I don’t want to hold you back” he had said, feeling so wrong to cling to Cas like a burden.

Cas had softly sighed and had sat beside him. “It’s not that, Dean” he had said and only then Dean had looked at him, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

Dean had nodded, incapable of saying more and both of them had soon fall asleep again, too exhausted by that emotion-draining day to stay awake any longer.

Castiel remembered that, as his eyelids had fluttered heavy and hot of sleep, he had stared at Dean, and he remembered how he had thought it’d be truly a shame for Earth to loose someone so wonderful. And then his fingertips had brushed a frown off Dean’s forehead and maybe the few drinks had been for something, grace and liquor hardly getting along, but he had held his breath and the touch had felt electrifying.

Now he looked at Dean with a clear mind and he felt the same thing. He shivered as he laid down again. The sheets felt cold and he felt the warmth emanating from Dean, and his belly tugged at him to move closer. But he shut his eyes tight and fell back into sleep, dreams black and agitated once again.

 

When he woke up for the second time, several hours later, the first thing that seeped between his heavy eyelids was the vision of Dean staring at him, barely breathing, green eyes wide and full of light.

Castiel’s eyes snapped open for good and Dean had a little move backward, heat rising to his cheeks. Cas blinked a few times, almost sure he had dreamed it, before he whispered a little “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey” Dean answered after a moment before he rolled on his back, and Cas saw on his tense features that the brutal reality had snapped back into his mind.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked softly, though he already know the answer, feeling the darkness swirling around Dean, thin tendrils reaching towards Cas’ grace.

“I mean...” Dean said, before he shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. “It’s weird. Like, I don’t feel worse or anything, but it’s like I can feel it _inside_ of me.” He shuddered, the sensation making him want to throw up. He turned his head to Cas. “And worse than that, I know I’ll have to tell Sam and my mom and everyone, but I don’t know _how_.”

“I get it” Cas answered. “It’s not an easy thing to announce.”

“Yeah, talk about killing the mood” Dean said, sniggering. He then sighed and looked back at Cas. He could definitely get used to waking up next to him, he thought with shame. “Wanna get some breakfast?”

“Sure” Castiel answered with a smile, before they both got out of bed and he followed Dean to the kitchen.

Dean put some buns he had took from the bakery in the oven, and brewed some coffee. They were chatting over their steaming mugs when the landline phone rang. Dean raised his eyes, surprised as he was not used to hear it.

He stood up and went to the corridor to pick it up. Castiel heard him say a few “yes” and “alright”, before he came back.

“It was the hospital” Dean said, answering the silent question in Cas’ eyes. “I have a few meds to pick up, for the headaches and all the crap” he said with a sigh, before rubbing his temples. He winced. “Why did I thought a hangover would help me?” he asked to himself.

“You were feeling bad” Cas said in a low, soothing voice. “Many would have done the same.”

“Are you saying I’m just another idiot?” Dean said, and he couldn’t help the grin from spreading on his mouth.

Cas gave him a dark look above his equally dark coffee. “You know I would never” he said, and again he thought, what changed this time? He had always been able to finish his missions and move on, but he was getting all tangled and pulled down in this one.

 

When they finished, Dean did the dishes a little, because he knew if he let despair overthrow him, he’d never get up again and he’d probably die alone in a house that was closer to a dumpster.

Cas was helping him rinse some glasses when suddenly Dean paused, and he draw a small breath in before he said, “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there.”

Cas nearly dropped the glass he was holding and he turned his head to look at him, his heart suddenly jumping forward, his breath caught in his throat and this time he couldn’t stop his grace from showing itself.

A short, but strong blow of white light exploded in his eyes, turning his irises bright like a glacier pierced by raw sunlight, soft blue turning icy, tendrils and waves moving inside them with the same wild infinity as the ocean waves.

Dean froze, his eyes opening wide. “What-” he began, staring at Cas with his lips parted, speechless, before he shook his head and dived back into cleaning the plates and knives.

Cas released the breath he was holding and did the same. After a moment he said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.”

He didn’t turn to Dean, too shocked by the strength of his own emotions, but he saw in the corner of his eye that Dean’s lips were pulled into a small smile, and so they continued washing in silence, hands and hearts warm and covered of soft, soapy water.

 

**X**

 

After dressing up, they went to the hospitals and Dean picked up several papers, as well with too many boxes of pills to be counted. These ones were supposed to ease his headaches completely and stop any undesirable effect of his sickness.

Dean had asked jokingly if dying was an undesirable effect. The lady had not laughed and had just handed him his bags of pills and went back to the dark corridor she had came from. Dean had rolled his eyes and had come back to the car, where Cas was waiting for him, and which was a much better place to be.

 

After lunch, he called his family and friends, guts heavy, squeezed under the immense dread growing in them. He said he had something to say and that he wanted to see them in the bakery tonight, as it was Sunday and it was closed to the customers. They all asked what it was about, but he refused to talk about it over the phone.

When he hung up, Castiel was giving him a saddened look. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked, getting closer to him.

“Yeah, but I don’t know about them.” Dean passed a hand in his hair, exhausted. “It’s a heavy bomb to drop, and I don’t even know I’m going to say it.” He shook his head, defeated. “It was a bad idea.”

Cas came to stand in front of him and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “You don’t have to tell them now if you don’t want to, but they are your family. They love you, and I think they deserve to know.”

Dean stared at him, his eyes sounding Cas’ before he sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right” he said before he had a small laugh. “You’re like my own spiritual guide.”

Castiel had a genuine, wide laugh that spread in the air like a flight of tiny birds. “God knows where you would be without me” he said, his grin creating lines around his eyes, always so bright even in the dim light.

Dean nudged at his arm, falsely angry, but suddenly all he could see was Cas’ luminous face and all he could feel was his warmth soft and soothing all around him. He had felt the same on the morning, when he had woken up a few minutes before Cas and he had watched him sleep, barely breathing, only observing the features of his face, the flutter of his lashes, his hands curled and brought against his chest.

But now he couldn’t keep himself from reaching out to him and suddenly he was pulling him into a hug, arms gently wrapped around his waist, hiding his face in the crook of Cas’ neck.

Cas had a small, strangled cry before he hugged him back, their chests colliding like dying stars.

Dean felt suddenly so small and he held Cas tighter, cheekbone against collarbone, closing his eyes in the embrace. Maybe it was his imagination or his sick brain, but he felt Cas’ fingertips moving against the hair on the back of his head, creating tiny, comforting patterns.

“I’m scared, Cas” he whispered, clutching Cas’ shirt in his hand.

“I know” Cas answered and there was a flash of light behind Dean’s eyelids and a soft brush against his forehead, but when he opened his eyes, there was nothing to be seen. The birds had once again taken flight in the great blue sky.

 

At the end of the afternoon, Dean was standing in front of all his family in the bakery’s kitchen. His mom, Sam and Eileen, Charlie and Benny. They all looked at him with some intrigued curiosity, and the knots in his stomach only grew tighter. His mouth was dry, his palms were damp and he felt the gravity of what he was about to say bubbling black behind his teeth.

“Are you going to keep us waiting any longer?” Charlie asked, before adding in a lower voice, “What a drama queen!”

Castiel entered the room. They had hard time finding a place to park the car and so Cas had suggested he’d go alone and Dean would begin to talk to his family.

They all turned to him, eying him the same way Dean had done the first time he had seen him, a little disoriented for a reason he still didn’t understand. “Ah, guys, this is Cas” he said before presenting each to Cas. This one gave them a little smiling hello, low voice still resonating all around Dean.

“Wait” Charlie suddenly said, making them turn to her. She considered Dean and Cas, her eyes going back and forth between them, her brow furrowed in concentration. “I think I already know.”

Dean’s heart froze in his chest. “What?” he asked in a strangled voice.

Charlie looked at him, and in the most serious voice one could possibly take, she asked, “Are you getting married?”

Dean stayed silent for a few solid seconds. Then, “What?” he asked, blinking several times to wake himself. He saw Charlie’s eyes, and now all his family’s looking at Cas and him, and he realized. “What, no! It’s not-” He looked at Cas for a little help but he looked as stunned as him. “We’re not-” he said, before shaking his head. “That’s not about that.”

Charlie pursed her lips. “I’m disappointed” she said, before giving him an insisting look. “Tell me you’re dating at least.”

Heat rose hot pink on the tip of Dean’s ears. “No, we’re not” he said in one breath, “Are you done?”

“Mmh” Charlie answered, before she looked at Cas this time. He froze under her eyes, as if she could read into his mind. “I was so sure of myself. If you saw how he looks at you sometimes...” she said, raising dreamy eyes.

 

Dean wanted to dig a hole and hide in it, but he admitted Charlie warmed his stomach again when it had been frozen by dread. “Can I talk, now?” he asked, and his serious, soft voice made her stop immediately.

He threw a last glance at Cas and this one nodded, before stepping a little bit closer, as if to bring him strength. As he began to talk, he slowly saw his family’s faces melt from their smiles, to turn worried, to froze and stay like marble statues for long minutes, and the more he talk the more the marble broke, crumbling into dust in front of him. He saw the lips opening in mute protest, the tears welling in already glassy eyes, the hands shaking, the breaths heavy and raspy in lungs crushed to the ground.

He stopped, breathless, and he felt like he could black out right here and now, as if he had finally thrown a heavy rock from his chest into the big black ocean. But now his family was drowning in all that water.

“Shit, Dean” Charlie said, tears streaming down her face, though Dean saw how hard she was trying to stop them. “I-I’m sorry I joked about-about the wedding and all, I-I didn’t know...”

“Hey it’s OK, kiddo” Dean said, giving her a soft look. “Nobody saw that one coming.”

He gave a look around. Charlie had curled tiny and shaking against Benny’s chest, and he was giving Dean a look that could break any heart. Which was even worse when you knew Dean had never seen Benny either sad or angry. The man was an eternal ocean of sunshine. Until now.

Sam was staring at him, his eyes red but no tears flowing. A hard flash hit Dean, and it was like seeing Sam back when he was a little child, trying to be strong as stone when he stood in the rain at their dad’s funeral. But Dean always saw between the cracks of his facade, and he knew that Sam was breaking internally.

“There must be a way…” Sam whispered in a voice so low Dean barely heard him. “There are treatments, and-and things get better and-”

“Not for this one” Dean said, as gently as possible, “The end will still be the same.” His eyes then swept all over them. “I don’t want you to treat me any differently. That’d be as good as if I were already dead.”

There was a beat of silence, the weight of his words like punches in their stomachs.

“But I can’t lose my little boy...” Mary suddenly moaned, her voice strangled in a cry of pain. She was holding Eileen’s hand tight, while this one stared at the ground, as if she didn’t want to hear the cruel truth anymore. Mary swallowed a sob back and walked to him, soon wrapping her arms around him, her head against his heart.

 

Dean lost his breath. His mom was like him, she wasn’t very fond of big displays of affection, and yet she was holding him like she used to when he was a little boy, as if she could just chase his worries with sweet words and candies and sunny walks on the beach.

He held her against his chest, leaning his chin against her soft blond hair, and suddenly all the members of his family joined the embrace. Eileen, small and alight like a flame came and pass her arms around both Dean and his mom, and then Charlie and Benny came behind him, heads against his shoulders, hands between his shoulder blades like the roots of some pale wings. Finally, Sam’s arms surrounded them all in a soothing, warm embrace.

Dean sighed of ease and smiled, until he realized there was a human shaped void inside his chest. He turned his head as best as he could to look at Cas, but this one had vanished from the room. Dean felt his heart sink a little behind his ribs. He felt like he couldn’t be whole without him anymore. He closed his eyes again and melt into the soft embrace, surrounded by the symphony of many heartbeats, his a little more sorrowful than the others.

 

But Cas hadn’t disappeared. He was just outside the shop.

 

When Mary had run into her son’s arms, something had moved at the edge of Cas’ vision. He had turned to the kitchen’s door, from where you could see the shop, and the street through the glass door. His heart had frozen when he had spot someone standing before it, staring straight at him. He had glanced behind and saw with a pang in his heart that Dean was nicely surrounded by his loved ones, eyes closed of ease.

He had silently slipped away and had left the bakery. Once outside, he had looked around, searching for the person that could only mean bad things. He spotted her across the street and hurried to join her.

Hannah looked at him with deep brown eyes that could have been warm and welcoming, but were turned cold and sharp like knives by her grace. “Hello, Castiel” she said.

Though Hannah didn’t come on Earth as often as him, she was so paranoid of being recognized that she changed her vessel each time. Today, she had chosen a male body that looked like no one she had taken before, but Cas could still taste her icy grace around her, prickling against his own.

“Why are you here?” he asked, face dark, nerves tense.

She looked around, her eyes settling on the bakery. Castiel wondered if Dean had noticed his absence. Probably not, considering the loving human arms wrapped tight around him.

“We have important things to discuss” Hannah said, still staring at the Winchesters’ shop. “But somewhere else.”

Before Cas could protest, Hannah’s cold fingers seized his wrist, and in a flutter of wings she dragged him across the city.

 

They landed near a place he knew too well - Dean’s house. He turned back to look at Hannah, anger bubbling hot inside of him. “Why did you take us here?” he asked, dark clouds shaping above him.

Hannah didn’t answer for a moment. She was looking at the landscape, the wide fields and the tall trees turning golden and brown with the arrival of fall. The wind grew stronger but she didn’t move, blink or flinch. A perfect statue.

“I started to think that, maybe, you should take another mission.”

Castiel blinked, confused. “Why?”

Finally, Hannah turned to him, tiny sparks of white-blue shining in the brown of her eyes. “I feel you have gotten too close.”

Castiel darkened. “We have the right to approach the humans we protect” he said, words sharp behind his clenched teeth.

“Yes” Hannah answered, “But only physically speaking.”

Castiel stared at her without a word. “I don’t understand” he answered in a low voice, and the storm rumbled somewhere in the valleys.

She gave him a smile. “I think you do. This house-” she said, glancing at Dean’s home, “This house carries your scent all over its walls. And I observed you, Castiel. You are following him everywhere he goes, and he follows you in return.” Her eyes grew a little warmer. “Besides, your feeling were always your greatest weakness. And I could always read them, though you always tried to hide them.”

Castiel’s eyes were so dark they now appeared black, a thin ring of blue barely shining under the stormy skies. “I don’t see why that would compromise my mission.”

Hannah stepped closer. “Because you have to realize that, when the time will come and Death will arrive, you will let her take this human you grew so fond of. There’s no saving him.”

“I know” Castiel said and his heart had a wild flutter.

“Even if you had the power, you couldn’t keep him from dying. It’s his fate. And we’re meant to observe them and carry them to Death, make sure they do not stay in between because their souls rot and fell into decay the months before their deaths.”

“I _know_.”

“It’s the way humans are. They live, and live, and live, and one day they die. It’s what makes them different from us. It’s why we can’t be close to them.”

“I was alive for centuries when you were created” Castiel snapped, diving his eyes into hers, “Don’t you think I know very well what I have to do?”

“Yes, it is true, but I’m your superior” she said, making Castiel grit his teeth. “And your friend. So I cannot let you hold onto something that may destroy you.”

“It’s kind of you” Castiel answered, already turning around to leave, “But I think I can handle this myself.”

 

Behind him, there was a wide rustling and when he turned back, Hannah’s wings were spread on her sides, feathers shining of different colors like opals under the dim light.

She gave him a last look, and to Cas’ greatest surprise, it was full of sorrow. “When the time will come, you will reap his soul and let Death take it from you. You cannot keep him from dying, it’s the way things are.”

“I know.”

“But do you accept it?” she asked with a last gentle smile, and she disappeared with a soft sound like leaves falling on a lake.

“No” he whispered to the empty field.

 

**X**

 

When Dean had learned about his sickness and the consequences of it, he had immediately thought, “God, I could become deaf” and then “Or what if it’s blind?”, but never had he thought he’d miss something as tiny as _taste_.

 

It came slowly, of course. He didn’t wake up one morning with his tongue reading everything as plain water. No, it came step by step and at first he didn’t notice.

First, he was tasting some fruits Sam had bought and he found them a little dull, while Sam pretended they were as tasty as they could be. It was nothing big and it could just have been a question of opinion. But as time passed, he started to feel and less, having to check what he was preparing twice to be sure he didn’t make a mistake. And then one day Sam playfully put a finger in the pastry he was making but when he tasted it, he winced.

“God, Dean” he said, squeezing his eyes tight, “Is that salt?” he asked, giving his brother a look through his teary lids.

Dean lowered his eyes to the glass jar he was holding and frowned. He took a pinch between his fingers and tasted it. He frowned even deeper and looked back at Sam. “Shit, it tastes like nothing.”

Sam’s eyes filled with confusion and he tasted it himself. His face immediately folded into a grimace. “It’s the strongest we have, you know, just to put a tiny bit in the caramel.” He then had a last wince before he looked back at his brother, suddenly serious. “Dean, I think the salt is not the problem… I think it’s from you...”

Dean stared at him, silent for a moment as he processed what Sam was saying. Then, “Ah” he simply said before he put the jar down. His hands gripped the table, knuckles turning white, about to pop. “But what am I gonna do with that?”

Sam sighed. “I think you’ll have to let the inventive stuff to me, now” he said softly, compassion flowing like honey from his voice. “And stick to the recipes you know by heart.”

Dean held back a sob. Cooking was one of the greatest thing he had in his life. He had worked so hard to come where he was, and now Destiny took it back from him? Ripped it from his grasp, leaving him with nothing but his eyes to enjoy what he made with his own hands?

“Alright” he murmured and his voice sounded so sorrowful Sam put a hand on his shoulder, pressing it gently.

“It’s going to work out fine, Dean” he said, his eyes searching Dean’s that kept avoiding him. “You always made the best pastries, and it’s not going to change. _Never_.”

 

Dean nodded, but his mood was still brought down for the rest of the day.

 

It was not _that_ awful, of course. It could have been worse, but it was like a tiny, bullet-shaped void in his head, in his heart. The worst was to smell the delicious aromas of the cooking pastries but when he put them in his mouth, it tasted like wild nothing. Just water and ash and wind. It was depressing on a higher level.

Sam tried to make him feel better, inviting Cas and him to go to Dean’s favorite dinner. They made the tastiest, spiciest burgers in town and few could eat it whole without feeling like flames had grown in their mouths. Dean pretended to enjoy it, but the emptiness he felt was nearly bringing tears to his eyes. But the small smile of hope on Sam’s face was everything he wished for.

When Sam was paying at the counter while chatting with Cas, Eileen walked to his side, wrapping her arm around his. “I understand how it feels” she said, her voice soft and low. “To loose something you took for granted.”

He looked at her, and met her wide, brown eyes. “I can’t compare that to what you’ve been through” he said, remembering when Eileen had told him about the blow of gas that had destroyed her house, and hearing, when she was just a little girl.

“It’s a loss” she said, shaking her head. “There’s nothing worse than that, and to me all losses weigh the same.”

 

He would understand that a few days after, with the greatest pain he ever felt in a while.

 

It happened on a wonderful day, actually. The team had a great surprise when one of the richest family of the state had chosen their bakery for the wedding of their daughter, meaning hundreds of pastries and of course a big, gorgeous cake. The parents were ready to pay anything to make their child happy, and promised a huge tip if they were pleased with the result.

It was one of the best thing that could happen to them. The money could help making the bakery even better, or even take the holidays they kept talking about, but always forgot in the turmoil of every day. And of course it’d bring great attention to them, and create new customers.

The team had celebrated it on the evening, at Sam and Eileen’s place. It all had been a warm, light-hearted moment, eating greasy pizzas and drinking cheap beer without caring at all, only enjoying it as it was.

As Dean had refilled his plate, he had watched Cas from afar as this one was chatting with his family. Thing was, everyone had loved him. Mary and Charlie found him charming, Sam and Benny were as astonished at his wide knowledge as Dean had been, and he was all that Eileen loved – quiet and kind, and he knew sign language, but he didn’t care that Eileen was deaf, and treated her like a normal human being. Dean had seen in her eyes that she was stunned at the sight of him, too often confronted with narrow-minded friends and impatient customers.

 

They had then left to get home, but not before everyone could hug Cas tight and give Dean insistent looks he had pretended not to see.

He climbed the stairs leading to his front door, Cas close by his side for the alcohol had risen in his blood system and he was a tiny bit over tipsy.

Once inside, he still managed to serve himself a glass of water, and he immediately felt his mind clearing. He then came to stand beside Castiel, who was watching the landscape by the window. It was truly mesmerizing, the wide fields flooded with moonlight, the woods far away dark and misty, the rain hard and strong in a heady melody. The wind was blowing like a giant against the house’s walls, and the thunder rolled, slow and tender in the distance, before booming with echoes that sent shivers down Dean’s spine.

Dean put his glass down on the table and glanced at Cas. The lightning cast raw, cold lights on his face and he looked even more ethereal than usual.

 

Dean had a small smile, lowering his eyes as something loud like the storm outside grew in his heart.

Cas saw his move in the corner of his eye and he turned, giving him a confused look. “What?” he asked, his voice soft and low as he tilted his head.

“Nothing” Dean answered, “It’s just that the house would feel empty without you now” he said, his voice just a whisper as if he was throwing secrets out in the night.

Cas stared at him, his breaths short and quick. “I don’t know where else I’d be”

Dean looked at him, his smile spreading wider. His head hurt a little, but it was nothing compared to what he had lived before. “Wanna sleep yet?” he asked, wishing he could stand in the moonlight forever by his side.

“No” Cas answered, staring back at the milky fields under the starry skies. “I’d like to stay awake a bit longer.”

Dean nodded and gently pushed Cas’ shoulder with his. Together, they spent the rest of the evening watching TV, curled up so close Dean could feel the heat of Cas’ body against his.

 

Later in the evening, they went outside, observing the raw light raining down on the city and fields, the house warm behind them. After a moment of silence, Dean had a small, strangled breath and he said, “I wanted to thank you for staying by my side through, you know, all that.”

Castiel looked at him, frowning. “You know I do that because I want to?”

“Maybe” Dean answered and his eyes got lost into the thickness of the night. “But I would have understood if you had left, or just step away. It’s not the kind of crap people want to deal with.”

“Dean” Castiel said, making him turn to him, “I stay because I care about you. And even if I wanted to leave, I’m not sure if I could ever do as such.”

Dean stared at him, and Cas saw all the alcohol had vanished from his blood. His gaze was clear and bright, and it’s not pushed by some foolish instinct that Dean got closer to him and put his head on his shoulder, his arms sliding around Cas’ waist, just holding him soft and light against him.

“It just makes me so angry, you know,” he murmured against Cas’ bones, “That I finally get everything I ever wanted and then learn I won’t be there much longer to do the right thing.”

“You’re not gone yet” Castiel answered, his arms finding their way around Dean’s shoulders, their chests colliding. Dean’s head moves a little to nest against his neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “And maybe you’ll live for many, many more years.”

“You know it won’t happen” Dean said, his hold on Cas tightening desperately. “It’s just too bad I met you in that time of my life… If only-”

Cas froze in his arms. Suddenly, guilt weighed down on his stomach. He had been thinking about it for a long time now, all night wide-eyed, listening to Dean’s breathing. He couldn’t bear to lie to him anymore, it made him suffer to hide the truth from him when he felt so close, so bound to him.

Dean rose his head to look at him. “I’d trust you with my life, I hope you know that” he said, suddenly looking and feeling so small and vulnerable.

 

Cas felt his grace bursting, his heart bleed blue inside of him. It was all too much, yet his damned mouth just wouldn’t open to let the truth seep out.

“Dean” he whispered, and suddenly he realized how close they were, Dean’s breaths warm and soft on his face. His blood felt like igniting in white and silver, sparks rushing through the flares of his bubbling grace, whispering in the roots of his wings.

Dean also seemed to notice it and heat rose to his face, spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. His eyes opened a little wider and swept across Cas’ face, before they fell on his mouth and he held his breath. Damn feeling setting fire to his lungs, making them melt honey-thick, falling drop by drop in his belly, and he felt all his body shaking, afraid, ablaze.

Cas tried to whisper his name, but being so close to Dean made him feel more alive than he had ever been in centuries, and all his instincts were crying like all the wounded angels after battle, and he craved his touch so bad he felt he’d shatter and turn into dust if he stayed too far away.

Dean leaned towards him and his upper lip gently brushed against Cas’, and both them shuddered in the night. Cas felt all his grace booming like thunder, his veins illuminated by a glow so strong it blinded him behind his shut eyelids. Dean felt blown away by that tiny touch, and it wasn’t hungry or voracious like a bird of prey, but it felt as deadly, all his worries and fears brushed away by that little warmth that felt like a wildfire spreading through the trees in his head.

 

Cas repressed a cry of pure suffering as he breathed Dean’s name, his mouth just a speck of dust from Dean’s.

 

Dean stepped back to look at Cas and his heart missed a beat when he saw his eyes were glassy, his lip trembling. “Cas?” he asked, his voice hoarse and broken, “What’s wrong?”

“Dean, I have to tell you something” Castiel said, shaking his head as he moved back, glacial wind blowing stronger around him, creating a corridor of icy winters between them.

“Cas, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-” Dean began, stepping to Cas, his heart now thundering behind his ribs, and his hands, his heart, his whole chest felt cold now.

“I’ve been lying to you.”

Dean stopped, stunned. He looked at Cas, this one staring at him with his wide, bright blue eyes. “What?” Dean asked in a murmur, shivering under the stars.

Cas swallowed hardly, a lump on his throat. “It’s- it’s not a coincidence if we met” he said, his voice tiny, his eyes dropping on the ground, ashamed.

Dean frowned and his body felt hollow, drained like a river in the desert. “I don’t understand” he said and though worry began to grow inside him, all his instincts pushed him to Cas, and he wanted to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him close and press his feverish lips against his.

Cas still avoided his eyes and he held his breath. “Please, Dean listen to me” he said and Dean froze, staring at him, wide-eyed and shivering of cold and fear. “I didn’t want to tell you the truth because I’m not supposed to. And because I didn’t want to lose your trust.”

“Cas, for God’s sake, tell me what’s going on” Dean said, making a step to Cas, his lungs burning so bright he ached, and ached, and ached. Cas shook his head, his mouth a thin line as he bit his tongue to hold the tears back. “Please, Cas, it doesn’t matter what-”

“I knew you were going to die” Cas said, his eyes snapping to him, wide and shiny, and the look he gave Dean could shatter castles made of the strongest diamonds.

Dean blinked. “What?” he repeated, heart stuttering.

Suddenly, the words burst from Cas’ mouth and he couldn’t stop them from overflowing, dripping from his lips still holding the last embers of Dean’s ghost of a kiss.

“I’m not from this world, Dean” he said, and all his body shook awfully, his blood was thick and poisonous. “I didn’t lie when I told you I accompanied people who were about to die. But it’s not my job, it’s who I am. _What_ I am.” Dean stared at him, speechless, shuddering in the cold. “I get these visions of people I don’t know, and I have to find them, and once I do I have to make sure they will live their last moments in peace, so they can reach the afterlife and not be stuck in between.” He gave Dean a sorrowful look. “I hand their souls to Death itself.”

Dean stayed silent for a moment. “This is crazy” he whispered, looking completely lost. One part of him wanted to believe Cas because he craved so much for his touch and smile and eyes he would do anything for him, but the other told him this was all a great, alcohol-glazed nightmare.

“I know it’s hard to believe” Cas murmured in return, “But I can prove it to you.”

“How?” Dean said, desperate, heart thundering behind his ribs. He felt a headache beginning to bloom in his skull, sharp and piercing, like knives in his brain and it was so strong it brought tears to his eyes.

Cas gave him a last broken look. “Please, don’t be afraid” he whispered almost to himself.

 

There was a wide sound ripping through the air, as if a blade of silver had cut down many trees and the leaves came rustling to the ground. There was the light too, so bright it was almost blinding, a raw, blue-white glow that outshone all the stars in the sky.

Dean stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes opening wide of fright, all his blood growing cold as ice.

Behind Cas, two wide wings spread on each side of him, and they looked real and solid, a faint, soft sound echoing when the wind hit the feathers. Dean first thought some unearthly creature had ripped through the worlds behind him, but when Cas made a step to him, the wings moved with him, folding with two, gentle curves around his face.

Dean couldn’t stop staring at them. They were so huge the largest feathers hung on the ground. The shortest were small and downy, soft and innocent looking, while the rest of them were long and sharp like swords. And the color of them! Dear, he couldn’t begin to explain it. At first, they appeared of a pristine white like milk and snow, but when Cas moved, thousands of different shades were reflected on them, as if each feather was a prism with a glimpse of another dimension caught in it. They shone of pale blue and soft green and soapy pink, looking like the crystals on the wide chandeliers hanging in beautiful places of golden walls and ivory floors.

 

Cas said his name, and his voice sounded like a thousand, finding its way under Dean’s bones, wrapping itself around his veins and muscles, squeezing the blood out of him.

Frozen of fear, he still rose his head to look at him and he felt his soul sink completely inside of him. Cas’ eyes were no longer human, but entirely filled with light. The same raw, cold sun glow that floated around him. No pupils, only glacial flares of light snapping back and forth, and Dean felt himself getting lost into them, falling into a land where there was no summer, only long, killing winters.

 

“Dean” Cas repeated, making a step to him.

“Stop” Dean managed to blurt, raising a hand between him and Cas. He moved back again, his human mind still processing the enormity of what he was seeing.

Cas froze and there was a small sound echoing around him, a little cry that sounded full of pain, and would have broken Dean’s heart if it didn’t sound like the unholy howl of a celestial, light-fueled creature.

“So, this was all fake?” Dean said, gesturing around him, and suddenly the tears welled up in his eyes, and he was furious, and he was afraid, and he was broken. “You only pretended to get along with me so you could finish your… job?” he asked, voice strangled.

“No!” Cas said, desperate and he tried to get closer to Dean, but this one now looked at him differently, fearful and terribly, awfully _angry_. He stopped again, aching to the core of his grace. “I told you, I usually don’t come to the people I’m supposed to watch. But you… you were different. And I swear I never pretended anything.” He blinked and his eyes became human again, though the blue circle around the pupil remained glowing like a beacon in the night. “Please, Dean, tell me you believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Dean shook his head and hot tears rolled down his face. “I don’t know what I believe right now” he said, and suddenly he took a deep, shaking breath and seemed to realize something. “You knew all along” he whispered before looking back at Cas, not shivering anymore, but cold and still like a statue. “You knew I was sick and I was gonna die, but you didn’t say anything. You just got close to me so you could ditch me to what? Your boss? And then you’d have left and moved on like nothing freaking happened?” he said, the end of his sentence nearly shouted, and he sounded like a wounded animal, biting because it hurt so much.

“Dean” Cas said, his wings covered by a shiver. “I beg you to believe me when I say it has never happened before. It was always so hard to see all these humans dying, but-but when I met you I knew it was going to be different.” He looked at Dean, holding on the last pieces of his hope. “I would give anything for you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I could say the same if I knew who you really are” Dean said, his voice acid, hot and deadly like lava flowing from the volcano.

Castiel stared at him, tears turning the glow in his eyes blurry and distorted like droplets falling on a fresh photograph. “Please, forgive me” he said, and he felt all his being shatter. He had made such a big mistake.

Dean clenched his fists and looked away, because deep down in his heart he knew he was on the edge to run back to Cas and hold him tight against his chest, breathing deep against his bones. “Maybe it’d be better if you left now” he said, trying to make his voice as strong and certain as possible.

Cas had a strangled sound and the divinity around him shrieked, howling like a wolf bleeding in the woods. “Dean” he said, his voice broken like glass, cut by heavy sobs and he looked so terribly human despite the wings and light and halo of cold moonlight around his head.

“Please” Dean said, closing his eyes as he couldn’t bear the sight of Cas anymore, his damp eyes and trembling lips making him want to die in the instant, struck by lightning. “Just go.”

 

Silence floated around him, and he prayed with all his soul that Cas wouldn’t leave, but there was a wide rustling and he opened his eyes fast, and Cas was gone.

There was nothing left of him and Dean stood alone in the night, the gloomy moonlight for only lantern to guide him. A sob finally burst in his throat and he let his body crumble against the house’s wall. He bit his lip to the blood but it didn’t keep the tears from rolling and rolling down the roads of his face.

Eileen had been right. Cas wasn’t truly gone, he wasn’t dead, but knowing he was away somewhere unknown, wounded in the deepest way was equally painful. After all, all losses were equal. It was pure, destructive grief no matter what.

 


	3. The Smell Of Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so, SO sorry for this delay, this chapter took me way more time than expected! A big thank you to anyone who didn't give up and will read this! <3

Running, running, running. That’s all Castiel could think about.

Ever since he had flew away from that so, so cold night, he kept on running. The thing was, he had to numb himself at any cost. Wash his mind clean with bleach, scrap the pain and sorrow away with bloody fingertips, purify his heart until there was nothing left but an empty, swirling black hole.

Every morning, he put some sneakers and a hoodie on and he went running. He had found the Clinton lake not far away from his apartment and the place just seemed wide and breathtaking enough to drown his grief.

Running was a purifying experience, it was true. But it was different for him, in the way where it’s supposed to empty you of any dark emotion. But for him, it only filled him with enough physical pain to make him forget what he felt deep in his heart.

He was stronger than any human, and so he needed to run _miles_ to even begin to feel a slight twitch in his muscles. But it is well known that birds are not meant to be on the ground, for it means danger and suffering and death. He ran until his feet hurt so bad they burned and he felt like collapsing, his way paved with burning ashes. His wings howled to him, begging to be used, to lift him from that poisonous fog floating above the water. But he kept on running, always and forever, until his breath was short and painful, his muscles tense and ablaze, his mind washed by flames.

 

It now had been three weeks since he had last been near Dean and each day dug a little deeper in his already wounded heart.

 

He was still watching over him, of course, it was what he was meant to do. But it was always far away, perched on a roof, hidden around the corner of a street, passing by and disappearing in the mouth of the crowd. Sometimes it was as if Dean sensed his eyes on him, for he froze and turned around, scanning the place with confusion spread on his features. But Cas had already fluttered on away, cold, raw pain threatening to strangle him and throw him in the deepest darkness.

Sam had called several times, and Cas had only answered once, the first time. Sam wanted to invite him over, and he sounded a little confused and lost as he had not seen him at the bakery in a few days, and Dean didn’t say a word about it. Castiel had thanked him but had refused, telling him he was away and needed some distance.

Every time Sam had called after that, he had let the phone rang in its endless, evil melody and he had listened to the voice mails each time. Sam’s voice grew more and more worried, telling him he was afraid he might never see him again. Castiel felt so wrong, for he truly loved Sam’s company as well with the rest of his family, but he just couldn’t get close anymore. He had made a mistake and now he was paying the price.

He tried not to fall too deep into despair, but as a familiar voice reminded him each day, easier to say than to do.

He didn’t eat much and slept even less than that. Sleep meant more visions, raw and bright and painful as a thousand wildfires in his head. He couldn’t bear to see Dean in pain and then in the arms of Death when he couldn’t even be by his side anymore.

Each day he ran until the tears welled in his eyes and he had to stop, breaths bloody in his lungs, legs and hands shaking, and on some days he barely had the time to run under the trees before he threw up on the ground.

It was no way of living, even for a celestial being like him. His grace suffered from not being used, his wings were sore and tense, and each of his nerves felt like a cut electric cable, sputtering sparks of pain. But even there, he didn’t stop running, and continued his way around the lake, despite the astonished looks some humans were giving him when they saw him pass next to them for the tenth time, eyes cold and determined as if it was a matter of life or death.

When he’d get home, sometimes he would have the strength to take a shower, sometimes not. He’d drop on the couch, damp of sweat, and he’d stare at the bare walls, heart thundering behind his ribs. He’d let his wings burst before he would fold them close against his body, covering him in a soothing, warm embrace.

He cursed every part of him that thought it’d be a good idea to change his habits and actually walk among the humans. Maybe he wouldn’t be in that situation if he had just watched from afar, and he would have moved as he had always done.

How he wanted to fly away from all that pain!

When the flow of his visions eased to let some space for his dreams, that’s what he saw- his foot pushing hard on the ground, his body becoming light, his wings opening wide under the gusts of wind, each feather shivering under the silky feeling of it. And then he’d leap into the wide blue sky or the fields of gray clouds and he’d disappear into the ether and he would be just gone.

 

But he had a mission to do. And more important than that, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Dean. In the past months, he had built a bond like he never had before in Heaven and on Earth, or in between.

No matter how hard he tried to distance himself, everything made him think of Dean, and it hurt like thousands of blades in his veins, bleeding him dry.

Curled as he was on his couch, wings heavy and cold, he’d think of his bright, full of laughter green eyes, and his mischievous grin, and the way his heart had felt against Dean’s chest, and how he had lost his breath when he had watched him sleep.

He tried to ignore it, but all his instincts pulled him to Dean. He wanted to fly to his house as fast as his tired wings could carry him, and he wanted to beg for Dean’s forgiveness and just collapse against him and sleep for centuries in the warmth and darkness of his ribcage.

He had thought about sending a message at the very least, but seeing their past conversations, all laughter and tenderness, it made him feel bitter and his eyes were blurred with tears and suddenly he felt foolish. No text would fix what he had done. In Dean’s eyes, he was a liar and a fraud and a monster.

 

And there was nothing he could do to change that.

 

**X**

 

On his side, Dean felt more hollow than ever. A foolish thought told him it felt like a breakup. Except a breakup meant the person left a layer of your life but was still somewhere around. But there, Cas was just gone. Dean didn’t know if he’d ever see him again, and he found himself turning around in the streets, in the bakery, in his own house even, looking for him.

Everywhere he went, it felt like he was carrying Cas with him. He couldn’t do anything without wishing he was there by his side, and sometimes the ache and guilt felt so heavy he just shut down and his mind went cold and blank and he went on his day like a robot. It was worrying Sam and all the others, of course, but it’s not like he could talk about it to anyone.

And things was, he was somehow glad to finally know the truth about Cas. It explained many things, from the way he had looked like he knew more than Dean when they met to the unexplainable vivid blow of light he had seen in his eyes.

But the truth made him equally afraid and fascinated. On one side, he couldn’t yet understand it all, and the strangeness of the situation was to great to be fully comprehended. And it was true it was scary. After all, a creature from another world had came on earth for him and had hidden among humans like a monster under a child’s bed. He knew things that didn’t even happen yet and was meant to deliver Dean’s soul to Death itself, while knowing it all along.

The very thought of it made Dean shudder.

 

But on the other hand, he felt like losing all his breath when the thought about Cas on that fateful night. Sure, he had been so angry and broken and terrified, but the vision spreading shiny and celestial in front of him had left his heart beating furiously of fascination. He remembered the eyes flooded with light, the wide, soft-looking wings reflecting light like prisms, the icy glow shaped in a ring around Cas’ head. There was enough to write songs and legends about it, and enough to make a man lose his mind.

But more than missing a dream, he missed Cas himself. He didn’t care that he was friend with an ethereal being, what he missed was the raw, human shape of him. He needed him close against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he needed to wake next to him and listen to his soft breathing and feel the warmth of him as all the worries of the day came rushing in.

It had been hard, he had realized too late, to go through the days and weeks without Cas while his damn sickness was still kicking. He had gone to the hospital a few times, to grab more medicine or just talk to some doctors, reassure them and tell them he was taking care of himself.

Dr. Yamini’s eyes had filled with sorrow when he had told her he refused any chemotherapy or anything. Truth is, he’d have liked a few more months with his family and just in life in general, but he didn’t see the point in suffering for months and felt his blood poisoned and his body weak and tired, while the end would still be the same: he’d die.

That was another hard truth to take. When Cas was there, he rarely thought about it, and he tried to live as much as possible in the present. But now, he felt overwhelmed by pure, glacial fear and sometimes he could only lie awake at night and wonder.

_Did it hurt? Would he feel it coming? Was there something after?_

This last thought made him shiver, spine cold with sweat. If higher, celestial beings existed and some had for mission to take human souls to Death, could it meant there was something further to be taken to? God, he thought, could there be a Heaven or Hell? Or could he get stuck in between and become a ghost, if they even existed?

That flow of fear kept him forever awake and he curled on his side on the cold, empty bed, his dogs for only company.

 

One night, he was once again wide awake and suddenly he felt a deepsorrow invading him. Of course, it happened before, when he realized he’d leave his family and that he was doomed in some awful, human way, but he had soon brushed it off because he knew it couldn’t be avoided.

But there, it was about something he could have controlled. If he hadn’t been so foolish and driven by his fire emotions, maybe he could have thought better. Maybe he could have talked to Cas and tried to understand, instead of rejecting him, throwing him into the night as if he was nothing. Of course it was a big revelation to swallow, but that didn’t make his reaction any less stupid.

Lying on his bed, side pressed against the mattress and knees half drawn to his belly, he suddenly felt hot tears rolling upon the bridge of his nose before they flowed on his lips and dropped on the bed, leaving a salty trail behind. He tried to wipe them but more came, an entire flood bursting from his eyes and suddenly he was sobbing, clutching his hands against his chest.

He felt so terribly wrong, because he realized how he had found someone that fitted with him like the missing piece of a puzzle, and now he had lost him. He was probably gone forever, and Dean could totally understand if he was fueled by a fury like lightning in the skies. After all, he was a celestial creature, and the way Dean, a simple human, had talked to him had probably angered him for centuries.

His dogs came to curl beside him, licking the tears streaming on his face, and fingers tangled in their furs, he finally fell asleep, heart like a dark ruby sinking in his chest.

 

**X**

 

This day was a very cold one. When Cas had seen the rain pouring onto the streets and the skies as gray as old tombs, he had thought about not running for once. He had lied down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, a hand on his chest as if to be sure he was still breathing. He thought he could stay like this, or maybe sleep for a little while, but the strange, invisible sickness inside him came rushing in stronger than ever.

He felt oppressed, his guts tugged by every corners of the universe. He sat in the bed, breathing fast, tears rising to his eyes. He felt like a stranger in this entire galaxy. It was as if his whole being wanted to be cut and pushed and bled dry. It was as if only suffering could set him free.

He sighed. He stood up slowly, his wings rustling behind him. He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, only to discover the feathers looked dull and dirty, hanging piteously on the floor.

He put some warm clothes on, as well with his pair of sneakers, before he threw a last look around and went outside. He drove to the lake and parked the car, his movements tense and cold like a robot’s.

When he stepped outside the car, the rain hit him cold and hard, tiny blades falling from the skies, and he was soaked in the matter of a few seconds. But it didn’t stop him. He felt even more determined to run now, as if the water could help to wash the pain away, make it flow in pale bloody puddles on the ground.

 

So he began to run. It was hard, the wind coming in front of him, pushing all his body as if he weighed nothing. The rain was glacial, freezing him to the bone, making his clothes cling to his limbs, heavy and dripping onto his shivering skin. The nature was in decay, the trees losing their leaves that came to rot on the damp ground, a strong, watery smell filling the air.

At least, the place was somehow beautiful. The lake was wide, the water reflecting the large, gray clouds covering the sky, droplets creating tiny patterns on its surface. It was very calm, and few dared to brave the weather to have a walk, protected under their large umbrellas. And even them looked at Cas as if he were utterly mad. He ignored them and kept running, and some kind of empty, meaningless peace filled his mind.

It was neither joy nor satisfaction, just a great nothing, a slight static echoing in his head. He could hear the water lapping at the shore, the wind moving in the treetops, some birds singing above his head. It was enough to put him in some kind of trance, and he kept on running.

For all he knew, he could have started hours ago. His muscles burned, his breathing was raspy and hot in his lungs and his head hurt like hell. But he didn’t mind. He kept on taking deep breaths and moved on, letting the small trail unravel under his feet. He had to focus as hard as possible not to let his wings burst for everyone’s sight, and so he clenched his jaw, biting his tongue and letting the blood bead on it, pushing all the grace away.

He wanted to keep going, run for a few more centuries if he had to, but he felt his body beginning to snap, to break down like an old machine. His vision got blurry at the edge, his ribcage hurt, his shoulder blades pulsed where his wings began. He gritted his teeth and pushed all his body to keep going, his fists curled into balls of white knuckles and sore fingers.

But he knew his body would let him down one day or another. That body that was empty of any human soul for so long, that body that was like his home, his shelter, his way into the real world. He had treated it so badly these days that it was just exhausted, used to the bone. Grace couldn’t heal everything, after all.

He felt his stomach twitching, shaken by oil and blood and sorrow, and he barely had the time to fell on his knees near the water before he threw it all up, soapy liquid disappearing in the dark depths of the lake.

He moved back and sat on the damp grass. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shivered, still filled with disgust. He felt miserable, but he couldn’t help it. With his guts twisted around and his skull about to burst, he couldn’t think about anything else.

He brought his knees against his chest, and just stared into the water, letting his soul sink in, rain hitting him like some divine punishment, his body slowly becoming cold and numb and lifeless.

 

*

 

Dean was walking as fast as he could, as if he could avoid the rain from soaking all his face despite his hooded coat. When he saw the weather, he thought he wouldn’t have to come outside at all, but the dogs had whined and whined all morning, and though he made them go in the backyard, it wasn’t satisfying enough.

So he had driven there, and now he was freezing to death, raindrops hanging from his lashes as he hurried behind his dogs, these ones not minding the raging weather at all.

Night was starting to appear, slowly but surely, the sky just getting a few shades darker, the small woods around the lake becoming scarier with each second. Dean checked his watch before he whistled to his dogs.

Wesson stopped before he turned back to trot to Dean, coming to stand obediently by him. But if Colt froze as well, he was not moving toward him. He was still, ears pointed at something in front of him, all his attention drawn to a single point. Dean shouted his name but the dog pretended to be deaf and began to run ahead.

“Shit” Dean cursed before he hurried after Colt, shouting his name, but the wind and rain washed all his words aside.

After a few moments where he had to both watch over Colt and Wesson who struggled to move so fast behind him, he finally arrived behind the puppy who had stopped, and looked at the shore, head tilted in curiosity.

Dean stroke his wet fur. “Hey, what’s going on buddy?” he asked him, turning his head to the source of his attention.

Sitting by the shore, someone was sitting, back facing him. Dean frowned and stood up. It was already strange to be outside by such weather, but there was something even weirder there. The person was sitting still, watching the somber lake, no coat or hood to protect themselves, body shivering hard under the rain, dark hair soaked in cold water.

Dean made a few steps toward the shuddering silhouette. “Hey, everything OK here?” he asked, wrapping his arms around his chest, his coat feeling paper-thin around his body.

 

The silhouette suddenly froze, and after a second, turned around. Damp blue eyes crossed Dean’s, before equally blue, trembling lips muttered his name in disbelief.

 

Dean felt like losing all his balance. The world began to spin around him and he had to ground his feet or he’d have fallen. His breath got caught in his throat, and he blinked the rain away, now shuddering from head to toe. “Cas?” he asked, pain blooming wide and bright in his chest.

Cas stood up with difficulty, pushing his hands on the damp ground to have enough strength. He stood in front of Dean, all his body shivering so violently Dean felt his heart sick in his chest. Cas’ eyes were red and swollen as if he had been crying and he looked so vulnerable in that moment Dean barely recognized him.

“What the hell are you doing out there?” Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper as he stared at Cas, frozen, incapable of doing more.

“I just needed to get out” Cas answered so low Dean almost missed it. Cas avoided his eyes, looking at everything but him, his fists curled on his sides as he kept shuddering so hard Dean thought he could burst and turn into dust at any moment. “Sorry” Cas added in another murmur like a faint cry of pain, before he began to walk around Dean.

Dean barely had the time to catch him in his arms before Cas’ legs gave up completely underneath him.

Cas fell against his chest, breath pushed out of his lungs when his head hit Dean’s heartbeats. He wished he could have straightened up, but his body felt so cold and miserable and so hot and boiling and melting at the same time. He gripped Dean’s coat to keep on standing up, and a sob shaped in his throat when he felt Dean’s arms surrounding him.

“Jesus, Cas, what’s going on?” Dean asked and Cas heard so much worry and grief in his voice he felt like breaking in two.

He gathered all his strength and tried to sound as strong as possible when he said, “I’m fine, Dean.”

He began to step back, but Dean held him tighter, his arms like a knot of silk around him. “No, you’re not” he said in return, and suddenly one of his hands came to rest against the back of Cas’ head, pulling him close against him.

“Dean” Cas moaned, voice broken by the tears welling in his eyes.

“Stop” Dean said, before he put his head against Cas’, holding him even closer, not a pinch of air left between their two bodies. “I’ve made a big fucking mistake, Cas” he said, and suddenly his breathing became raspy and heavy, and his chest rose and fell quickly against Cas. “Just let me help you right now.”

Cas said nothing for a moment, before he nodded, arms folded against him, warm against Dean’s belly. They broke apart, but only for Dean to take his coat off and put it on Cas’ shoulders. Cas began to protest but Dean shot him a look that made the words die on his lips.

Together, they walked as fast as possible back to Dean’s car, the dogs running in front of them as the rain came pouring down harder and colder.

Dean drove at the speed of light, hands wrapped tight and white around the steering wheel, eyes fixed strong on the road. Cas was curled beside him, breathing softy in the warm atmosphere of the car’s heating. His lungs felt sore and icy like glaciers, his limbs numb, his heart black and volatile.

 

As soon as they entered Dean’s home, this one made Cas seat on the couch, before he ran to his room and grabbed several blanket that he wrapped around Cas, but not before he took the soaked coat off him. He also grabbed a towel and dried his hair as much as he could, considering him with worried eyes as Cas stared into the empty, lip still trembling.

Dean sat on his knees in front of him. The floor was hard and cold under him but he didn’t care. “Cas” he said, hoping it would create a reaction, in vain. “Please, look at me.”

Cas seemed to fight against all his instincts before he ripped himself from his trance and dived his eyes into Dean’s, shuddering despite the several layers around him.

Dean took a small, shaking breath. “I’m sorry” he said, and before Cas could speak, he shook his head and keep on talking. “I made a mistake. I was so goddamn angry and scared and-and I didn’t know what to do. I thought that if I pushed you away, it’d change everything. But it didn’t, and now I’m freaking lost, Cas” he said, whispering the last word in some sort of hushed prayer.

Cas stared at him, breathless. “I wasn’t asking for your forgiveness, Dean” he said, as he could barely believe what he heard.

“You should have told me,” Dean said, “But I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I acted like an asshole.”

This actually brought the ghost of a smile upon Cas’ lips. “You are not” he said, feeling his chest fill with light again. Light he thought was gone forever.

Dean had a small, broken smile in return, and he seemed to think for a second, before his hands reached out to Cas’, and he held them in his, cold palms against cold palms, a little bubble of sleepless nights and trembling lips and blueish hearts.

“Can you promise me something?” Dean asked, almost shyly.

“Anything” Cas answered, his eyes melting against Dean and though he tried to hold it back, he saw the blow of light in them shining back in Dean’s.

“Can you just stay for tonight?” he asked, blowing Cas’ breath away, “Just stay for this night and tell me everything. Then, I won’t be asking anything anymore and-and I’ll let you go if you want to” he said, his eyes so sorrowful staring back at Cas.

“Of course” this one answered with a small smile that barely tugged the corners of his lips.

 

Dean sighed and passed a hand in his still damp hair before he climbed on the couch beside Cas. His body was already close but Cas felt so desperately cold he curled up against him, ear pressed against his heart, warmth rushing from his head to toes, his grace singing again as if a piece had missing for all that time, turning it icy and silent.

Dean had a little choked breath before he wrapped his arms around Cas and brought him closer against him, tucking Cas’ head under his chin, lips breaking into an astonished smile as his eyes closed, enjoying the raw, burning sensation of Cas so close to him. He dove his nose in Cas’ hair, and breathed deep, filling his lungs of him and before he could realize, his limbs became heavy, his eyelids fluttering like butterflies and he fell asleep to the sound ans sensation of Cas’ breathing against him.

 

He was almost sure he heard a wide rustle before he fell into slumber, but he felt so good and warm he wouldn’t dare to move to make sure of it.

 

**X**

 

Dean was awaken by something tickling his nose. He shook his head before he exhaled sharply, and moved to make the sensation go away. Except it didn’t. It only spreaded wider, something very light and downy brushing against his whole face like a gentle breeze. He blinked and his eyes fluttered open.

Then he didn’t know what surprised him most. That he was sleeping with an arm thrown around Cas’, their bodies close and breathing together, or that he was actually nested in the crook of Cas’ wings.

His eyes snapped wide open and he had a small move back, before he froze, afraid he’d wake Cas up. Without moving his arm around Cas, he observed the wings, half afraid and half fascinated, barely believing he was actually awake and not having some kind of twisted, feverish dream.

One wing was folded underneath Cas’ body while the other was draped over his shoulder like a soft, feathery cover, so large the tip of them touched the small table near the couch. They felt like living beings, shivering in Cas’ sleep the same way his eyelids trembled with vivid dreams.

Dean’s hand, moved by a desire greater than him, reached out and softly, his fingertips land on Cas’ wings in an almost shy way. His eyes opened even wider, his hand brushing against the feathers, fingers getting lost in the shiny knots of it. They were iridescent like beautiful, smooth blades of opal, and though the touch of them was cool and light, they felt warm and soothing against his chest.

Cas had a little sigh in his sleep and moved on the couch. Dean immediately drew his hand back and lied back next to him, barely breathing in fear of waking Cas.

He felt so lost in that moment, wondering what the hell he was doing. A few weeks ago, he thought it was the last time he’d seen Cas and now he was cuddling with him, wings warm and luminous between the two of them?

Dean sighed. Yes, of course, it was strange on a higher level, but as he thought deeper of it, he wouldn’t have seen himself live any longer without Cas. The simple touch and proximity of him felt so natural and essential, like the air he breathed. As he settled back against him and found his place between Cas’ sharp shoulder blades and soft-as-silk wings, he thought that he wouldn’t change a thing if he could. The only thing he wished to go away was the sick, thunderous beat of his heart as his eyes became a little watery and his hands were slightly shaking as he gripped Cas’ shirt.

He closed his eyes and hid them in the darkness of Cas’ back, pulling him closer to his chest, and he thought that maybe his mistake for so long had been to consider him as a friend, when his heartbeats definitely told him otherwise.

 

When he woke up again, Cas’ presence felt different by his side. His body was tense, his breathing quicker and not deep and slow as when he was sleeping. Dean took a small breath in and rose his upper body on an elbow.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, low enough not to wake Cas if he was mistaken.

Cas’ whole body shivered in an almost imperceptible way. “Yes” he simply said.

Dean felt the heat rising to his face as he withdrew his arm around Cas’ waist, though he couldn’t bring himself to remove it completely. “Are you OK?” he asked, and it was making a nervous knot in his guts, not being able to see what was going on in Cas’ eyes.

As an answer, Cas shuffled on the couch to lie on his back but froze midway in an uncomfortable position as he realized his wings were in the way. Dean saw his eyes opening wider on his still sleepy profile.

Before Dean could even hold him back, Cas stood up, back facing Dean and once again he could not see the emotions swirling in his blue irises. “I’m sorry” Cas said, his voice tiny and ashamed.

“About what?” Dean said, sitting on the couch, body still heavy but now with a great, cold void inside his chest, where Cas had been carved for the whole night.

“I-I didn’t know my wings-” Cas began while folding them tight against his body, the morning light seeping through the shutters passing through them as if they were the great stained-glass windows of some abandoned church.

Dean stood up and made a small step to him. “Hey, it’s OK, I swear-”

There was a wide rustling and suddenly Cas’ wings disappeared into his back, sucked into the great blackness of his bones. He turned back to Dean, avoiding his eyes, while this one stared at him, lips half open of shock.

“I think I should go” Cas whispered, staring at the ground, and he felt like a stranger, when he thought he had finally found a home among these warm walls and tender arms.

Dean’s heart sunk in his chest. “What?” he murmured, fear pressing his lungs tight. “No, no, you can’t” he said, walking quickly to stand in front of Cas. “I meant what I said, Cas. I made a huge mistake.”

Finally, Cas rose his eyes to him, and Dean saw how fearful and guilty they looked. “You don’t have to say that” he softly said, “I would understand if you didn’t want to see me ever again.”

Dean shook his head. “Damn it, Cas” he said, frustrated tears rising to his eyes. “I acted like a dick, and sure, I still don’t know why you lied to me, and yeah I was freaking pissed!” he said, his voice rising higher. “But I never wanted you to leave, alright?”

Cas gave him a surprised look, considering his watery eyes and shaking lips with shock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you” he said, his voice breaking as he spoke and now they looked at each other, both shaking and not knowing what to do or to say.

“Goddammit” Dean muttered before he wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders and pulled him close to his chest, chasing all the air out of their lungs. Cas had a strangled sob and his hands gripped the back of Dean’s shirt, and he buried his face in the dark of his neck.

 

They stood a moment like this, in silence, their bodies slightly rocking in a soothing way, eyelids pressed tight, breaths itching their throats, heavy of sorrow. “Please, stay” Dean said, one hand leaning against the back of Cas’ head, a handful of soft hair anchoring him into reality.

Cas didn’t answer but wrapped his arms tighter around him, and it felt like a soft light flooded inside Dean’s body, illuminating every corner of the maze that was his mind.

He moved back, but not too far away, and looked at Cas, eyes still shiny. “Will you talk to me, now?” he asked, and Cas nodded, and Dean sighed before he leaned his forehead against his, holding back all the crying gathering in his chest.

Fingers wrapped against Cas’ wrist, he then walked him to the kitchen and together they had a rapid breakfast, burning their tongues on the hot coffee, before they decided they would go outside to talk, the walls suddenly feeling oppressing, closing in around the words that craved to be freed.

 

As they walked around the lake, Dean took a deep breath in. His heart had a painful twitch when no scent filled his mind, no strong smell of muddy lake water or rotting fallen leaves.

It was if the illness had accelerated and came tumbling down when Cas left. His taste had finished to disappear, and slowly he had begun to notice he couldn’t rely on his smell either. It was the same, it came like sleep, very gently and before he knew he would wake up one morning, feeling like his body had been robbed by some evil spirit still living inside of him.

It was a great void inside his chest, and maybe he felt a little less human now, closer to the metal and plastic machines, and each night he feared he’d awaken with another part of him gone, dreading that the sickness would even take all his blood and soul away.

 

Dean sighed and sat on a bench facing the ever-still waters of the lake. Cas came to sit by his side and together they watched the peaceful surface barely shivering under the wind. There was such a mystical silence floating around them, a raw emptiness and peace that felt holy.

Finally, Castiel spoke, his voice soft and low like a caress from the wind.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, his warmth floating soothing around Dean in the damp, cool air.

Dean sighed softly, breath a white cloud in the atmosphere. “Anything you want to tell me.”

“From the beginning?”

“Yes” Dean answered, closing his eyes for a second, enjoying the fresh wind and steady lapping of the water at the shore.

Cas drew a small breath in. “I’m an angel” he said, his words echoing, ringing like silver bells in the cold morning.

Dean had a small laugh. “Yeah, I figured that one” he said, before looking back at the gray-blue lake. “I mean, it’s not like I could miss the wings and halo and harp.”

Some celestial hand drew a small smile on Cas’ mouth. “I’m not that kind of angel” he said, staring at his feet, the gravel rustling under his boot, small ants running around it, drops of dew on the short grass passing through it.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, turning to him, frowning.

“I’m a Reaper.”

Dean’s gaze only grew more confused. “Like Death?”

“No” Cas said, before his eyes got lost into the gray clouds high above. He took a deep breath. “Human souls are… complicated. They are both very strong and very fragile. They are usually meant to go to either Heaven or Hell, but sometimes if something goes wrong, they can be stuck… in the middle.” His eyes turned back to Dean. “It’s my mission to find the souls who will possibly be stuck, and avoid this situation at any cost.”

Dean stayed silent for a moment. “So, before you arrived I was destined to become a ghost or something?”

Cas nodded solemnly. “Yes. If a human is exposed to too much pain, or worry, or loneliness, his soul may...” He stopped, thinking for an appropriate word, “His soul may _rot_ in some way, and so he becomes a spirit that cannot move on.”

Dean shuddered. “Nice” he said, his fingers twitching as he imagined his soul decay inside of him, heavy and putrid green. He breathed deep through his nose, the cold air easing the nausea shaking in his stomach. “You met a lot of people like that?”

“Yes” Cas said, his eyes darkening. “Men, women, old persons, children. They were all going to die soon, and there always was something that could ruin their souls and keep them from moving on.”

“Like what?”

Cas swallowed hardly, emotion tightening his lungs. “Losing someone dear to them. Finding about a sickness inside them. Being bullied, neglected, beaten. Feeling as if they were alone in the world.” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Just anything that could make them lose all hope on life.”

Dean thought for a second. “So, you didn’t lie when you told me about your job?”

“No” Cas answered softly. “I do help them the best I can. Sending them what they need, making sure they live as best as they can, or inciting their families to go and see them.”

“How do you do that?”

“Through dreams” Cas said with a smile. “The same way I get the visions of the next person I’ll have to watch over. I just modify their dreams a little and they wake up with the need to see the person I care for.” He turned to Dean. “But you are a lucky one, you are surrounded by a lot of people who love you. I don’t need to infiltrate their dreams for them to care about you.”

Dean smiled in returned and his eyes got lost into Cas’. He thought about how stupid his reaction had been, and what he would be if Cas had left forever, or at least far away from him. He blinked, suddenly darkening, heart beating a little faster. “Have you ever tried… to save them?”

A flash of sorrow passed by Cas’ eyes. “Tried, yes. But I don’t have the power to.” He lowered his head, defeated. “Believe me, Dean, when you know someone is about to die, you try everything you can to make them live as long as you can. I’ve seen little children and people who were adored by everyone die, but I realized that no matter what I did, the end would still be the same.” He had closed his eyes, biting his lower lip as if to swallow some blue emotion back.

 

Dean stayed silent for a moment, the wind cold around them, the water soothing yet so imperturbable near them.

“You told me you never got close to the people you had to care for” Dean said, in a slow, low voice. “But why did you now?” he added, and he seemed rather confused than curious.

Cas turned his wide eyes to him, and Dean mentally hit himself. How could he not realize before how shiny and bright and luminous they were even in the dim light of the rainy day? “I don’t know why I changed my mind. I just felt something pushing me to do it.” He had a small smile. “But I’m glad I followed my instincts” he said softly, eyes now cloudy.

Dean blinked several times, speechless. In that moment, all he wanted was to pull Cas closer and hold him tight against his chest, seep all his warmth inside him, letting the sunlight of him warm his shivering bones.

He looked away, overwhelmed. “It got worse, you know” he said, voice tiny. “It’s like that goddamn sickness felt you leaving, and punished me for being such a dick.”

“Dean” Cas said, his voice worried. “Anyone would have reacted that way. I lied and I hid my true nature to you. It’s not easy to accept, even less to forgive.”

Dean looked back at Cas, and saw fear in small waves in his eyes, and he realized Cas still wasn’t sure that Dean forgave him. “C’mon, Cas, you know I wouldn’t let you go so easy” he said lightly, but deep inside his heart beat like a war drum.

“So we are OK?” Cas asked, his eyes sounding Dean’s, filled with dread.

Dean chuckled at the way Cas sometimes spoke like him. “Yeah, yeah, we are OK.”

There was a tiny thread of silence before Cas said, more quietly, “We are still friends?”

Dean blinked. “Yes, we are” he said, and a heavy weight fell on his throat.

 

Before any of them could say anything – and God how the words crowded in their mouths, craving to be freed! – one and then two drops of rain fell between them, before the skies broke completely and if it wasn’t for the weeping willow above their heads, they would be entirely soaked by now.

“We better get going” Dean said, and Cas nodded in approval.

They both got up but none of them moved. They just stood under the long, soft branches of the willow, watching them move above the water, dipping into its dark depths. The rain made small circles on the surface, a nearly joyful melody echoing around, amplified by the wind going stronger, while some birds cried in the distance, adding their voices to the symphony.

Dean heard Cas took a deep, shaking breath next to him. “One of my kind warned me, that I was getting too close” he whispered, eyes lost into the agitated waters of the lake. “I should have walked away and let someone else watch over you.” He shook his head, “But I couldn’t” he added, voice just a murmur.

Dean’s heart missed a beat, stumbled over a thousand emotions. “Why?” he asked, shivering under the brutal wind, raindrops falling on his lashes, blurring his vision.

Cas turned to him, eyes shinier than ever, a raw, cold glow illuminating the blue in them. “I’ve spent a lifetime moving on from people I cared about” he said, and his voice broke in two, softly, like a love-letter ripped by sorrow-shaking hands, “But I don’t think there’s any moving on from you.”

 

Dean’s breath got stuck in his throat and his body moved before his spirit, driven by some animal instinct greater than him.

 

He turned to Cas and cupped his face in his hands, foreheads pressed together under the fat drops of rain falling on their faces. Just like the fateful night that had broken them apart, he stayed a breath away from Cas’ mouth, silently asking, his lip barely brushing against Cas’, feeling all his soul shouting of misery.

Cas had a strangled sob and he grabbed Dean’s coat, fingers against his ribs and his heart thundering hard behind them, and he closed the distance between them in a hard, yet soft as honey kiss.

Dean’s closed eyelids fluttered, as he felt overflowing with emotion. Cas’ mouth was warm and gentle against his, but also hungry and desperate, and he was too. He couldn’t lose Cas one more time so he held onto him, his fingertips diving in his already soaked hair, small wet strands curling around his fingers like black tendrils. Cas’ breath was hot on his face, and in his head grace came flooding like morning light in a bedroom, beautiful and soothing.

Cas wrapped his arms around his waist, always so gently and pulled him a little closer and once again there was a soft flutter heard around them. Dean didn’t need to open his eyes to know there was no bird in the sky in that moment.

 

But when you know you’re dying, there are things you need to accept, things that may have seemed impossible only a few months ago. But, well, kissing an angel under the rain wasn’t that awful, he admitted as he slowly broke apart and pulled Cas close against his chest, their breathing rapid but filled with wholeness and sunlight.


	4. The Sound Of The Broken Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little thing before you start reading this chapter: I'm so very sorry of how long it takes to write each chapter, but I promise you I will never give up on this story before it's finished! This said, I wish you to enjoy this new part of the story, and don't hesitate telling me your thoughts! :)

Since the day he kissed Cas for the first time, Dean’s fingers turned into hungry little creatures. His fingertips were like small bugs, bees and spiders and butterflies wanting to run up Cas’ spine, trace the curve of his mouth, get tangle in his thick, soft hair.

The whole truth was that he craved his touch more than anything in the world. Every time Cas came into the room, he wanted to run to him, wrap his arms around him, lie down and just hold him close and feel him breathing against his chest. It was not like he had been starving for affection because he always had loving friends and family, but something else was just missing.

A person so close to him it would be impossible to live without them. Someone maybe different, maybe the opposite of him, but just someone he could share things with, his fears, his joys, someone he would feel like he could melt with. A soulmate, perhaps, if that even existed.

And then he had met Cas in the most unbelievable circumstances, and yet he had found it, his other half. The way had been paved with fears and obstacles and his world had been turned upside down, but there he was, drowning in all that happiness. That was why he couldn’t help but touch Cas whenever he could, breathing deep into him, so terribly afraid he could burst into a cloud of golden dust and escape into the wind. He wanted to feel him close to him and never let go of that beautiful, celestial warmth.

If he had told anyone how he felt, people would have probably given him knowing smirks, and chuckled, and slapped his shoulder as if they completely understood what he meant. But it wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t lust _at all_.

It was a need deeper than that, rooted deep in his lungs, tendrils wrapped around his veins and bones, the very blood pumping in his muscles. It was as important as the air he breathed – he needed it to live. But it was also way beyond this earthly plane. It was majestic and ethereal and divine. It was a desire pure and golden. Next to Cas, he felt warm and safe and just wonderfully well, and he would never be ashamed of that.

 

Sometimes, it made his throat heavy of sobs when he thought about how much he cared about Cas, and how Life had brought them together in such strange way. He felt his chest tight with great, sunshine bliss when he’d woke up next to Cas each day, and see his fluttering lashes, his breathing slow and deep, some dim, celestial light always floating around him.

Next to him, he could forget everything that was wrong, meaning the sickness growing inside of him. Every time the worry burst in his ribcage or dark thoughts would invade his mind, Cas seemed to feel it, and he’d tangle their fingers together or pull Dean’s head against his warm chest and just hold him, slightly rocking with a slow hum that came behind his closed lips.

Cas, too, felt like he had finally found the meaning of life. After centuries of existence, seeing countries and lands rise and fall, people live and die, he had finally found the very reason of his waking every morning. It was a very small thing, something foolish called _love_ , and he couldn’t say he truly understood it, but it was so, so enough. It made the days shine brighter, and more beautiful.

Many other angels had told him that being too close to humanity would only make him lose his own divinity, but truth was, he couldn’t feel more celestial than in this very moment. Every time Dean touched him, or looked at him, his grace bubbled happily like a liquid firework inside of him and he couldn’t help but let his lips being tugged in a smile of pure awe.

Their bond was becoming stronger each day, like the sunlight appearing on the horizon every morning. It was pure and raw and blinding, warm and soft like dripping honey, sweet ribbons holding them together, and it felt like the whole Universe had fallen for the two of them and had done anything so they won’t be separated any longer.

 

It was a strange relationship, of course. Though it was full of love and joy and hopes, there was still a dark shadow floating above it, like a great rain cloud threatening to burst.

First, Cas’ nature was still a great reason to this strangeness. Though he talked to Dean about it anytime he wished, telling tales of Heaven and dusty ruins and waters flooding the earth, Dean could barely grasp the whole truth. Sometimes when he woke before Cas, he’d stare at him, observing each of is features and his heart would miss a tiny beat when he’d think, “He’s not human.”

It was just a façade, flesh and bone and blood to hide the pulsing light that was his soul. It was not that Dean was confused or afraid or anything, it was just that the fact Cas had been sent to him and more importantly that he had chosen to stay was a great mystery to him. He couldn’t help but think, “Why me?”

He had never been pious, he had never been so righteous either, and then someone as extraordinary as Cas had fallen upon his doorstep and now he’d sleep in the warmth of his arms, and he’d enjoy each tiny hour of the day by his side.

It was a feeling like he had never experienced before, he realized. It came rushing in, bubbling, shouting in his veins as he’d look at Cas playing with the dogs, grin wide spread on his mouth, or when he’d stand under the sun, eyes closed under the golden caress, wings half spread under the holy light.

It was pure adoration and though it scared Dean at first, he had accepted the feeling whole in all its odd and terrifying and raw nature, and now that he could hold Cas in his arms at night, kiss his temple each morning and bury his face in the dark of his neck, there was no dread in his heart anymore.

 

Or at least, not about the ruby red feeling he had towards Cas. It was rather the black, oily sea shaking inside of him each time that he thought that the illness kept growing in him and he’d soon be ripped from this world.

Cas, though he refused to talk about it in detail, had told him he still had plenty of months to live. He had seen – or rather _felt_ – it in his visions. There was still time, and he refused to already imagine Dean in a wooden box, under six feet of soil and grass and tears.

There would be light the day of his death, Cas had seen it. For now, winter had completely settled and the skies were deep gray from dawn to dusk, and so he didn’t worry too much yet. It was only when the sun shyly pierced among the clouds that his heart began to beat faster, and he’d suddenly get closer to Dean, following him everywhere he went and would only let a little space seep between them when the cruel light would be gone.

He knew he wasn’t the only one with dread eating his heart away. When he had entered the bakery for the first time since he had flew away on that cold night, Sam’s eyes had snapped to him and opened wide with surprise. He had then walked around the counter and pulled Cas into a bone-crushing hug. Cas’ breath had been thrown out of his lungs and tears sprang from his eyes and he had hard time keeping his wings from spurting in the warm air, wide and luminous.

Later, Sam had taken Cas apart and his eyes were so sorrowful universes could shatter by the very sight of them.

He told Cas how he was so terribly afraid of losing his brother, how he had lived everyday with him since he was a child and now he couldn’t see himself without him anymore. As if Dean’s disappearance would rip a part of his heart. He looked at Cas if he could do something about it, and it felt only bitterer to know he was incapable of doing so.

The feeling was the same through the whole family. They all pretended to keep on living and not treat Dean any differently, but Cas saw through their lies. Mary gave her son wide, warm smiles but as soon as he looked away her bright teeth and shiny lips would turn into a thin line of sadness. Charlie and Benny kept on joking and teasing Dean, but Cas saw how their gestures were way more careful and controlled than before, as if they were afraid to break his bones and turn them into diamond power.

Only Eileen seemed to truly understand what he was going through. Yes, her eyes were often damp of grief and she would hold onto Dean’s hug a little bit longer than before, but she knew the right amount of compassion to give him, without falling into a deep pity that would only be more fatal.

Being treated as a little fragile object would only break Dean apart, especially now that the illness seemed to rise up inside of him like an arrow shot to his head. He had been right when he had first been told he was sick. It was not much death itself that was awful, but everything that came before.

First, taste. Robbing his body of a sense he had forged his career upon. Then, smell, leaving him unable to fill his mind with soft vanilla and strong rain water and burnt wood and hot dust. And now, very slowly like snow covering the ground of his head, he was beginning to lose his hearing.

It was very faint, really, at first only making him wince of discomfort and then becoming a thin layer of mute static over his ears. He knew it would eventually become worse, and it was scaring him to the deep pit of his bones. He was so afraid of turning into a shell of a human, something that looked like one but was closer to a white ceiling or a cloudless sky. Wide, empty, meaningless without any colors or spark to make it alive.

 

Eileen had begun to teach him a few words in sign language, in a wide secret that only Cas knew about as Dean didn’t want to worry his family too much yet. Knowing he was going to die soon was rather enough in his opinion.

At first, he was quite reluctant. Not that he didn’t want to learn – he knew it would be quite useful when the time would come. It was just that actually beginning to learn meant his sickness was truly taking another turn. One that would push him downhill, emptying his body of all senses until he became just a little shell spat out by the sea.

And as if it wasn’t enough, he felt utterly stupid trying to imitate Eileen’s smooth gestures, her thin hands fluttering in the air like little butterflies. His felt so rough and heavy, his fingers getting tangled together, his motions hesitating and blurry, speaking a language mute yet chaotic. His fingers were just like blind moths in the night.

But little by little, he began to memoris several words, and then create whole sentences. It was still making so afraid, this way he could speak without using his voice, threading words in silence and wind. And it was surely an illusion, but the more he learned, the more he felt drifting from his past self, becoming something entirely different. With each fluttering of his fingers, he felt the sounds around him becoming fainter, as if each moths came to bite at him and fly away with another tiny part of him.

And yet, through all the terror it was causing him, he began to like it, this strange, quiet language. As he was beginning to hear less and less, he’d often find himself speaking in signs with Eileen, and even to himself sometimes. Sure, his tongue could still shape words but it fell so odd, to be able to speak while not hearing a single sound coming from his mouth.

 

Sometimes he’d wake at night and he’d lie in the bed, and he’d realize how silent the world was. Even in the deep darkness, where nothing barely moved in the fields around, there was nothing but a wide, plain silence. And it was not the kind of silence you hear when there is no sound – there was no static, no faint movement of the air around him. No, it was like floating in a bubble cutting you from the entire universe, as if the heartbeat of the world had stopped, as if nothing was turning anymore. He just felt terribly lost and alone among all these quiet stars.

It was a scary experience, and sometimes he’d put a gentle hand on Cas’ chest as he slept, making sure he was still breathing as he couldn’t hear it anymore. And then as if by magic, his ears would suddenly pop and silver static would come back into his head, Cas’ deep breaths soothing him back to sleep.

He knew he would miss the very sound of Cas. His low, soft voice resonating like slow thunder in the distance, his steps barely brushing the wooden floor, his sunshine laugh, his slow hum to the radio. So he enjoyed every little moment and took each little sound close to his heart, putting them into little boxes where they’d be safe, where he could listen to them again and again in his mind.

 

But though sounds were still deeply important to him, the stunned, shiny-eyed look on Cas’ face as he signed him “I love you” for the first time was beyond priceless.

 

**X**

 

Cas knew Dean would die surrounded by light. What light, he couldn’t tell, but the tiniest beam of sunlight would make his heart sink deep in his chest. He dreaded sunny days more than everything, fearing they would flood into the room and swallow Dean whole.

But for now, the skies were perfectly still, gray and thick and numb, only spitting a cold, harsh rain from time to time. There was no spring light that could be seen, no dreadful glow that made Cas want to curl up small and close to Dean at night, hoping his shadow could protect him.

 

Yet, it was the blackest day when Dean’s heartbeat suddenly ceased.

 

It was important to say that it was a day like another. There was nothing that could ever let a glimpse of that awful, poisonous thing seep through the gates of consciousness. No, Death did not come like this, she didn’t even come herself. She came in a more discreet shape, seeping under the doors and windows like smoke. It didn’t want to be heard, it didn’t want to be seen. It wanted to work in silence and leave without a sound once it would be done. There was no celebration in Death, even for the creatures working to rip souls from Life, her greatest enemy.

 

This was then how this day begun before the worst occurred.

 

The morning had begun in an effusion of joy and pride – the wealthy family who had asked them to make the pastries and cake for their daughter’s wedding had been very pleased by their work. The ceremony had been a little ruined by the pouring rain and cold, as one might expect when you plan a wedding in the middle of winter, but the mood of each guests had been lifted up when they enjoyed soft _choux_ and _mille-feuilles_ that melt in the mouth and colorful _petit-fours_. And as if it wasn’t enough, both the husband and the wife had shed tears in front of the huge, white-as-snow cake, sweet as a cloud, little mouthfuls of heaven on silver spoons.

Needless to say, they had left them a _generous_ tip.

 

So on this morning, when they had learned the news, Dean was speaking to Sam through face-cam, his hands fluttering rapidly like butterflies in front of his screen. Though his hearing wasn’t completely gone, it was faded enough to keep him from hearing most sounds around him.

He said goodbye to Sam, but not before he promised he’d pass by the shop to celebrate with the rest of the team, though he was feeling particularly tired today. He then stood up and before Cas could realize what was happening, Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and hold him so tight he lift his feet from the ground.

“I love you” Dean muttered against his chest, overflowing with bliss like a melting sun, and he didn’t need to hear Cas’ answer to know the feeling was the same.

It was like symbiosis. Two things fitting perfectly together, so different yet so similar, merging together in one shiny color. They had felt it, this link growing between them as the days passed. It was in the way they knew what the other was going to say, how they caught the glass falling from a clumsy hand, how their bodies fit together when they fell asleep at night.

“I love you too” Cas answered, and Dean had a big, warm smile, holding him closer.

 

Until he realized he actually _heard_ Cas, his words loud and clear. His eyes snapped wide open and he looked at Cas, stunned.

 

“Say that again?” he signed, his heart startled.

“I didn’t say anything” Cas signed in return, frowning.

“But I heard something” Dean said out loud, shaking his head, confused to the pit of his bones. Cas’ voice had resonated all inside him, filled with warmth and tenderness, as if he could taste his words on his tongue.

It’s only when he took Cas back in his arms and small glimpses of colors and sounds flashed in his mind that he began to realize. These memories, these thoughts didn’t belong to him. And stranger than that, he heard his name whispered in Cas’ voice, in different tones, from urging to sorrowful to sweet as honey.

He moved back again. “Think something” he signed, and Cas frowned even deeper than before, considering him with a completely lost gaze. “Say something in your mind” Dean added, feeling completely insane.

Cas gave him a confused look and there was a beat of silence where Dean could hear the loud wind blowing against the windows. He felt pure fear rising in him as he thought he was becoming mad, as if the sickness in his brain was way worse than he thought.

 

And then his name resonated again, questioning, soft and loving.

 

Dean blinked and his eyes opened wide. He could barely believe anything that was happening but well, when your lover is a centuries-old angel, you don’t ask yourself too many deep questions in fear of losing your mind. “Cas?” he thought, his fingertips brushing against the back of Cas’ head.

This one’s eyes snapped wide open and he stared at him, lips half open of shock. Light began to float around him, proof that his emotions were much too strong to be controlled.

 

This was then on this day they realized their link was definitely beyond the normal love that can unite two persons. The connection they had felt, the way they seemed to know what the other was thinking, was simply the whole truth. Their two minds were connected like black wires to the same screen, thoughts shining together bright and luminous, and though Cas always felt it deep in his bones, Dean could sense him too now, no matter where he was.

Cas felt it like a little glimpse of color on the edge of his vision, a tiny golden speck of dust on the corner of his eye. He was always there, and their link pulled at him in his guts, drawing him to Dean the same way it had walked him into the bakery the very first day. He could speak Dean’s name in his mind and Dean would hear it, no matter how many walls or streets were separating them.

And though they had got used to the language of hands, it was so soothing and beautiful to hear Cas’ voice again that Dean barely thought about the strangeness of it all for a second. He just went with it and tried not to ask too many questions, in fear this golden link of sirup snapping between their two minds would be robbed from him too.

 

Their happiness had then reached its climax. They had organized a meal on the same day to celebrate their success and the atmosphere couldn’t have been warmer or more blissful, hands and mouths moving, two languages merging together to create a joyful, eerie melody. Cas had a little moment where he had felt himself leaving his body, observing the scene from afar, and it had felt to him like he had never seen something as beautiful as this small but united family, all laughter lines and bright eyes and incredibly kind hearts.

They had then spent the whole afternoon and evening all together, huddled together as they had walked the streets of the city, enjoying the authentic feeling of it despite the rough, cold wind and dark skies. When these ones had started to spit a harsh, glacial rain, they had rushed into a small bar and drink a little, just enough to warm their bellies.

Charlie had brought her camera and had snapped at least a hundred photos, of the place with its golden lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling and cinnamon-colored walls, but also of them. Them in their rawest nature, in a pure feeling of human joy. She had announced several of them, but the others were candid pictures taken by surprise.

 

Later, when she’d look at them on her computer, a smile would spread wide on her face. The pictures showed Mary hugging Dean and Sam, and though they were way taller than her, their grins and falsely embarrassed faces made them look like tiny children again. They showed Dean and Benny laughing together, and they showed Sam’s cheek leaning against the top of Eileen’s head, an arm protectively wrapped around her small shoulders as she smiled of ease. One even showed Cas with a big grin on his mouth, but most importantly, the neon light under where he stood had illuminated his eyes, making them appear luminous, glowing even.

A thin milky fog had appeared around his silhouette too, and Charlie had first felt a pang of sadness because something had happened and ruined the photo. But the more she looked at it, the more she began to think it gave a true feeling to the picture. It gave an ethereal, out-of-this-world appearance to Cas, making him great and shiny and just beautiful in an unexplainable way, as if he was some mystical creature straight from a fairytale.

But the most beautiful was one she had took just before they left. Cas had been looking at the light, waiting while Sam was paying at the counter. Dean had walked to him and together they had stood in silence. Charlie had looked at them with curiosity, and had seen their eyes moved very lightly, as if they were seeing each other’s words in them. And then Dean had smiled and had closed the space between them and had pressed his lips against Cas in the sweetest way.

Charlie had snapped the picture as fast as she could and she was pretty pleased with the result. She had knew they had became more than friends, but they had never really told anyone. It wasn’t because of shame or anything, but rather because it would have sounded so obvious it didn’t need to be said. Like the Sun at the center of our system or the moon shining every night, it just was and it didn’t need any explanation.

The photo was incredibly soft, a wave of light and tenderness flowing from it like beauty from a particularly great painting. The dim lights around had turned the scene warm and gentle, a little moment of love captured in a flash. The same faint ghostly light was floating around Cas, but this time some tiny tendrils of smoke seemed to reach to Dean, wrapping like loose fingers around his wrist as Cas’ hand had softly held Dean’s sleeve to pull him closer. Charlie had found it strange, of course, but she wasn’t the kind of people who wanted to ruin all magic while trying to explain it, so she just enjoyed the eerie, yet honey-soft atmosphere this trick of the light gave to the picture.

 

Dean and Cas reached home a little late in the evening. They changed and Dean barely repressed a hundred of yawns before he told Cas he was turning in for the night. His arm softy wrapped around Cas’ waist and in his mind he asked him to come, yearning to fall asleep to the soft movement of Cas’ breathing against his chest.

His eyes were wide and warm like tiny suns even in the dim light and he gave Cas a smile so full of adoration he felt his heart miss a beat. He leaned and put a kiss on Dean’s mouth, soft but strong, all his grace bubbling between their lips. He then let Dean drag him to the bedroom, though they did not sleep right away.

Though Cas had fallen into slumber a little while after, he was now lying wide awake, turning and turning in the bed, trying to find some comfort against Dean’s warm skin. There was a feeling itching in his veins, so awful like static and venom and thunder, but he just couldn’t explain it. It felt icy cold, as if something terrible was about to happen. He sighed and as quietly as possible he slipped out of the bed, put his pajama pants back on and walked to the kitchen, but not before he put a light kiss on Dean’s forehead as he slept of a deep sleep, eyelids fluttering like little rosy moths.

He tried to drink some water to cool the feeling down, but it didn’t work. He felt worry growing inside him, and the worst was that he didn’t know why he felt that way. Everything was more than perfect in his life and though he knew this delicious bliss would eventually end some day, he was fully enjoying it.

He sighed again and grabbed a hoodie that he put on, before he slipped in the cold night outside, sitting on the small wooden steps. He stared at the wide fields bathed in moonlight and with a small breath he let his wings unfurl behind him, letting his feathers drink in the pale glow. The wind felt fresh and soothing against his burning eyelids, and he was rocked by the low song of it, closing his eyes under the heavenly sensation.

 

He must have fallen asleep this way, for he woke up again, a sudden, strange feeling gnawing at the dark of his belly. It was cold and wide like a snowstorm and he didn’t know where it was coming from, and it was so confusing he felt the world spinning around him.

He sat right and winced at the moan of his sore muscles. The cold had turned his body stiff and stubborn and sleep was still making his eyelids heavy, his vision hot and blurry of exhausted tears. He shook his wings before he folded them again inside him, cold seeping through the feathers, rustling them like a careless, divine hand.

But then the feeling came back and he was fully awake. It was like a hook stuck in his stomach and someone on the shore was pulling him, drawing blood in the process. The sensation was awful, yet impossible to describe. It just tasted like _emergency_. Like ashes and lava and thunder. He felt as if he had something urgent to do, but he didn’t know what. It as if gravity had been transformed, as if all his world now revolved around one point, and he was pulled to the ground, small, insignificant thing still frozen and tired.

 

He got up on his feet and went back inside, a wave of warmth soothing him a little. But the feeling didn’t ease. He frowned and he was about to serve himself another glass of water when something rustled in the dark.

He froze and turned back, heart beating fast, observing the shadows in vain. After a moment, he began to think he had imagined the soft sound echoing near him, and he turned back to the sink.

And then the feeling came so strong it stopped his breathing and he bent in two, arms wrapped around his belly. Tears sprang from his eyes, the pain sharp and unbearable. His mind was filled with hundreds of images and sensations, and it was green and leather and gold and freckles. And just like that, he knew something was wrong with Dean. He didn’t know what, but Dean was aching and he felt it himself in the pit of his bones, his grace howling of terror.

 

He hurried to the bedroom, heart pulsing in his mouth, a stench of burning strong in his nose, blood pumping loud in his ears. When he entered the room, he saw nothing at first. It was calm and softly warm, and it was familiar, and Cas felt his heartbeats calm a little, before they jumped back into a frantic race when he saw something moving in the dark.

A silhouette was leaning over Dean’s asleep body, fingers curled like little claws reaching to him in a hungry way. And then a slow hum rose in the room and suddenly a little thread of pale blue light snaked out of Dean’s half opened lips and shaped into a ribbon, floating to the silhouette’s own mouth.

Cas’ blood grew cold in a second and the next his wings spurt from his back, a wide _whoosh_ echoing in the room. A blow of light went off in his eyes and suddenly they were icy and cruel and terrifying. His fists were clenched, ready to fight and he stood like a mountain, facing the creature that had turned back in a swift motion, the ribbon of light falling back in Dean’s body.

Creature he knew was the same as him. He knew the song that made the souls escape the mortal bodies, he knew the being was about to take it on his lips and then blew it in a breath in the wind, before it’d take flight into a great comet of cold light and guide this little thread to its right place.

Cas’ grace grew hotter and the lights in the room burst, feeling the dark corners of warm yellow light. Before Cas, on the other side of the bed, stood a Reaper he didn’t know, but still a Reaper. The moment of surprise and shock passed, deep, cold brown eyes stared back at Cas with defiance.

 

“Castiel” the other angel said, his voice sharp like a knife. “I knew you would be here” he said with such arrogance and contempt Cas felt his grace raging inside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked behind his clenched teeth.

The other angel considered him with a cold eye, looking at him as if he was utterly mad. “I’m doing what you cannot do.”

Castiel’s frown grew deeper. “You should not be here” he said, making a step closer, glancing at Dean. His heart froze in his chest when he saw the sweat covering Dean’s face, his features twisted of pain and fear in his sleep. “I am the one who will reap his soul.”

“I do know that” the angel answered, “But we began to thought that you would not be able to end your mission. That is why I am here.”

Cas gave him a look burning of hatred. “Did Hannah sent you?”

The angel nodded. “Yes” he said, before his eyes seemed to grow a little softer, but not of understanding – of pity. “She only wants to spare you the pain. She knows how… close you grew to that human.”

“Is it his hour to die?” Cas suddenly asked, and dread rose inside of him, though he tried not to show it. Could he have been wrong? Did his visions showed him some foolish glimpse of the future and Dean wasn’t meant to die in light but in a shadow, his soul taken away by a stranger when Cas could have still be sleeping in the freezing wind?

“It would have happened eventually, Castiel.”

“Is it his hour to die?” Cas repeated, voice shaking of rage and when he got closer, he saw the other angel blinking of surprise, making a tiny step back as he saw the cold, savage light moving in Cas’ eyes. Maybe in an attempt to protect himself, the Reaper’s wings spread, luminous and clear like Castiel’s.

They folded a little around him as he spoke. “No” he finally admitted, holding Cas’ ablaze gaze. “But we knew you wouldn’t be able to let him go when the time would come. And you know the rules, Castiel. Every living being has to die, with no exception. It’s the natural order of things.”

 

There’s a great rustling and before the other angel could even react, Cas had flew across the room and was now pinning him against the wall like a little bug, the light of his grace blinding around him.

“IT IS NOT HIS TIME TO DIE!” he shouted and his voice sounded like a hundreds, diving deep into the angel’s bones.

He realized he had begun to shiver. He swallowed hard, trying to gather some strength and telling himself he had nothing to fear – after all he was just like Cas, no more, but no less. Yet, when he looked into Cas’ bottomless eyes, he felt his own grace hiding in the dark of his veins.

“Castiel, listen-”

“No, _you_ will listen” Cas cut him off and his fists curled on the angel’s collar grew stronger, knuckles pressed against his throat, making his breathing raspy and painful. “I am the one who has to take care of this human’s soul. Not anyone else. When the time will come, I will do what I have to do, but until that very moment, and not before, you don’t get close to him.” His voice grew bloody and threatening. “If I see one of you trying to touch his soul again, I swear on Heaven I will smite you and turn you to dust. Is that understood?”

The angel could only nod now. Castiel stared at him for a few more seconds before he stepped back, his eyes never leaving him. The angel shivered and shook his wings. “If it’s not us, it will be someone else. His soul had already left his body and someone must have scented it. Now some will come to take a bite of it, and you will not be able to save him forever” he said, and now his voice truly sounded afflicted.

Cas didn’t answer, and the angel had a small sigh before he turned to the window left ajar and slipped outside, soon taking flight in the night, dark bird of prey melting in the shadows.

 

Cas stood a moment staring at the fields, the moon, making sure nothing was coming for Dean, because he knew what the other Reaper had said was the truth. There weren’t only good creatures coming on earth, angels meant to guide the human souls to the light. There were darker beasts, craving for the burning ashy taste of a soul rotten, waiting in the shadows to drag them to the deep pits of Hell. And now that Dean’s soul had tasted the atmosphere, its scent was floating all around like a too sweet stench and now every hungry animal in the dark was coming for it.

 

There was a gasp behind Cas’, ripping him from his somber reverie. He turned back to see Dean sitting in the bed, sweat beading on his forehead as he gasped for air, his body shivering violently. Cas shuddered and completely ripped himself of the trance the dread had thrown him into.

He rushed to the bed and wrapped his arms around Dean, kissing his temples and hair, fingers fluttering like little butterflies around his face, his wings folding around him in a protective embrace.

Dean leaned against him, cheek pressed against Cas’ chest, ear listening closely to his heartbeat to cool his own down. His breathing was still ragged and painful, and he kept shaking, but not of cold.

“I dreamed I was dying” he whispered with the little strength he had, the words like ash and acid on his tongue, and he felt like breaking in two.

Cas had a broken breath against him and his hold only grew tighter around him, as if he wanted to take him in the dark of his chest to keep him safe from the cruel world outside.

They finally lied back in the bed and Dean fell back asleep, body still shivering against Cas, as this one’s wings were spread over him, warm and soothing and shuddering of the same fear.

 

Because he knew that Dean would be gone one day. Sooner or later, something, natural or not, would come and would take him away from him, and he would be left cold and empty and without purpose.

And for the first time he truly began to think there could be another way. That maybe he could save Dean. Not that he didn’t wish it was possible before – he would have done anything to keep him alive for a hundred more years fueled by his own grace if he had to. But now his soul and mind were decided and as he fell back into sleep, his fingers tracing small patterns in Dean’s hair, he was certain he would not let him die.

No beast from the mouth of the earth and no creature from the eyes of the skies would come to rip him from his sweet, beautiful life. Cas would make sure he would live many more years. Maybe it was selfish, because Dean’s life meant he would stay whole, meant he would keep his heart full of sunlight and his grace burning of pure adoration.

 

But he would do it, he would save him.

 

No matter the cost.

 

 


	5. I Hear Them Howl

Cas saw them. The monsters, the creatures, the beasts. They came like the rain, first drop by drop and then all at once like a flood. They filled the streets of their shadows and even the humans seemed to feel something, glancing nervously as they passed by a dark alley, as if something could jump on them at any moment. Little did they know it was more probable than they thought.

It made Cas’ grace hot and sticky of disgust and rage. The monsters carried a strong, acrid stench that gripped him tight at the lungs, a smell of burnt flesh and metallic blood and rotting bodies pinching the bridges of his nose, sharp like smoke. He saw them at every corner, lurking in the darkness with wide, hungry smiles. For now, they seemed to stay quiet and they did not dare to approach Dean. Perhaps, Cas thought with dread, they were waiting for someone’s order to finally grab him in their claws.

He still had not told Dean about it. After all, how could he? How could he tell Dean evil creatures coming from the darkest nights were coming for him, starving for his delicate soul after an angel almost stole it like a precious jewel?

Dean was already passing through enough suffering. Cas saw that too, the ache and the tiredness flashing dull and threatening in Dean’s eyes. He was trying to stay strong and keep on living, but sometimes it was just so hard. He would wake with strong headaches, so sharp they overthrew the pills the doctors gave him. He would feel exhausted at any hour of the day, feeling like weak and hollow, and sometimes all he wanted to do was curl on the bed and just lie there until his time came.

Cas tried to soothe him as best as he could, running his fingers through his hair, humming low and soft to his ear, sending him beautiful images of evergreen lands and deep blue skies. But the worry seemed to seep through Dean’s skin and Cas felt it prickling against his own. He wanted to rip Dean from that blackness that seemed to weave itself around his bones, but he just didn’t know _how_.

Many nights he had waited for Dean to be asleep, and he had pushed all his powers against him, forcing the light inside him to do something. He imagined the tumor nested inside Dean’s body, small but dark and pulsing and sickening, and he would imagine his grace ripping it in a swift, painless movement. But it never worked.

So he would smooth Dean’s hair and he would lie back in the bed. It made him so angry, to be so defenseless, so useless. He was an angel, born where the stars shined for the first time, meant to fight impossible wars and rip the skies like a comet. Yet, he was good to nothing when it came to something as small as that devilish sickness in Dean’s brain.

He too tried to be strong. Of course, the worst in this situation was Dean, but it was also painful to watch. To see the shadows spreading under Dean’s eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead at night, his fingers searching Cas’, distressed when he woke up after a vivid nightmare. He wanted to help, and yet the only thing he could do was _watch_. Watch like a useless creature, destined to see what he loved most in the world crumble into dust.

Needless to say, he was terribly worried about Dean. And he was worried for himself. Though he tried not to think too much about it, he didn’t know what he would do when Dean would be gone. He lived for centuries all alone, and yet in the space of a few weeks, Dean had became essential to his survival. It was like he would turn into a river dried up if anything ever happened to him.

So, no matter how anguish was eating his mind and heart, he decided he would do anything to let Dean live as much as possible. Starting by chasing all these monsters away. And considering they were coming for Dean himself, this one unfortunately had to be prepared to face some if they ever dared to enter his home.

 

So Cas taught him how to fight.

 

It had not been easy to announce. Dean’s eyes had opened wide when Cas had told him there were monsters in this world, and when he told him they had scented his soul and were now hungry for the taste of it, thick drool dripping from their maws.

And then Cas had told him it would be a good thing to know how to defend himself. Of course, if he had to face several creatures, it seemed cruelly obvious that he’d lose no matter what. But he could at least buy himself some time in case Cas was away. And that was certainly not going to happen.

Dean had looked so terribly afraid at first, sightly shivering as if freezing cold. But then Cas had taken his face in his hands and he had dived his eyes into his.

“I will always be there for you” he had said in his mind, his thought bright and loud and loving, and Dean had nodded, before he had leaned his forehead against Cas’. He had then stolen a small kiss before he had told Cas he was ready to learn.

So Cas had taught him. At first, he was being careful and delicate, not wanting to hurt Dean at any cost. He would stop if he ever saw Dean wince or step back, a quick flash of pain in his green eyes. But Dean was also strong and determinate, and a quick learner. He had a remarkable agility, and Cas was actually stunned the first time he fought with him. As the days passed, Dean got even swifter and cleverer, his sharp motions and steady eyes showing how natural it felt to him.

But Cas had been a good teacher, pushing him to his best while being attentive and caring. He had never underestimated Dean but he had been very surprised when Dean had dodged the blow of his clenched fist and suddenly Cas had been wrapped in his strong arms, back pressed against Dean’s panting chest. He had felt a little vulnerable like this, suddenly realizing Dean was no ordinary human, but the brightest soul he had ever seen, and he could have been made of pure stardust for all he knew.

And then Dean had kissed the curve of his ear in a soft peck before he had stepped back, a gentle smile on his mouth. And Cas realized he had never, ever realized the true nature of love before he had met him. He now understood what people felt when they said their lover was like their sun, their stars, their gravity. Their _everything_.

 

When he saw that Dean had nothing more to learn, he stopped the lessons and told Dean he was ready. And Dean felt proud of himself, and he felt strong and invincible, though he knew he was not. But Hell be damned, he felt so powerful he refused to think about his mortal nature.

Cas then told him the only thing missing was a weapon. Of course, fists and feet and teeth could be useful, but weapons were the extension of a fighter’s body and soul, and it would add a little more chance to Dean’s spirit if he ever faced a monster or any other creature of the night.

So Cas told him he would come back very soon, and Dean blinked, and Cas was gone from the room, only leaving a small flutter of wings behind him. Dean felt a heavy iron weight falling on his throat, worry gripping his lungs tight, and he began to pace in the room, alarmed. But only a few minutes after he had left, Castiel reappeared, wings spread on his side, a smile on his mouth.

In his hands, he held a beautiful leather sheath, a dark handle peeking from it. He handed it to Dean who took it carefully, an uncertain look on his face. But as he saw Cas nodding at him and smiling even wider, he took the weapon from its cage.

He barely held a little gasp back when he saw the knife. It was a beautiful short blade, curved and shiny like a half silver moon. It was carved with delicate patterns, from the tip of the blade to the end of the handle, strange language and soft flowers and leaves intertwined with gold.

Dean gave Cas a stunned look. “Where did you get this?” he asked in his thoughts, amazed by the beauty of the object.

“Morocco” Cas simply answered with a curve of his lips.

“What? Now?” Dean asked, blinking, confused.

“Yes” Castiel answered and a small spark of mischief appeared in his eyes. “It is not that far away” he added with a small beat of his luminous, wonderful wings.

Dean nudged at him in the ribs. “Show off” he said, creating a wave of bright laughter from Cas. He gave him a smile before he tried to become serious again. He turned the knife slowly in his hands, certain it was sharp enough to slice his clumsy fingers. “But for real, did you really go there?”

“I have been everywhere in my life” Cas said, and his voice was soft, almost melancholy.

Dean didn’t stare at the knife anymore, but looked at Cas now. An idea had bubbled in his head. “Could you take me there?” he said, full of dangerous hope. He had planned to travel for his life, but considering it took some time to plan and time was the last thing he had, he had completely gave up on his dream.

Cas gave him a look that broke his heart. “I wish I could” he said, his voice low and soothing, “But I’m afraid I’m condemned to fly alone.” He then remembered Hannah and her warnings and anger bubbled in his heart. “Or only with my kind.”

“Hey, it’s OK” Dean said, putting a hand on Cas’ shoulder, but he couldn’t deny he felt a sharp blow of grief in his soul.

Cas fell silent for a few moments, looking at the blade as if it held all the keys to the mysteries of tomorrow. His head then snapped back to Dean. “I could show you, if you wanted to” he said, eyes bright as if tiny stars had fallen in the great oceans of them.

“Really?” Dean asked, his hope resonating so loud in Cas’ skull he couldn’t help a smile from tugging at his lips.

“Yes, I could show you what it’s like” he said, raising his hands to cup Dean’s face, holding it preciously like it was crystal-clear water he was afraid to spill. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere” Dean answered in a breath, and Cas smiled before he closed his eyes, light soon flooding the room and Dean’s mind at the same time.

 

Dean’s breath got caught in his lungs as he saw hundreds of visions – memories he reminded himself – of places he had dreamed of but never visited.

He saw immense deserts, wind blowing strong and creating storms of gold, smelled mint tea hot and heady, saw honey dripping thick and amber. He saw stone cliffs perched above the raging sea, smelt the salt and earth and rain, tasted small pastries with sour cream and sugary jam. He saw wide canyons, felt the sun hot and hard on his skin, smelt ash and smoke, heard the cries of the birds of prey circling above his head. He saw tall glass towers and huge marble palaces and he saw crowded streets and he saw peaceful rainforests. He saw stone castles on lost islands and wooden houses perched on the edge of the world and he saw hurricanes and he saw sunrises.

And it was as if he had lived all his memories himself. As if he had too touched the rosebuds and colorful spices in the _souks_ of Morocco. As if he had put his palm on the ancient pyramids when they were still in all their glory. As if he had flew above never-ending tropical rivers, and observed the dragonflies and hummingbirds perched on his fingers. As if he had walked the streets of a thousand city, swift and discreet like a shadow, slipping through the hands of the crowd, light like a feather.

 

When Cas gently stepped back, Dean needed a minute to take his spirit back. He stared at Cas, breathless.

“Have you really seen all this?” he whispered, still stunned of everything the vivid visions showed him.

“Yes” Cas murmured as he caught a tear leaping from Dean’s eye on his fingertip. “I’m very old, after all.”

Dean had a small laugh and wiped the tears beading in his eyes, tears he didn’t know why they were there. “I said nothing. You can be as much of a show off as you want to. I think you earned it.”

Cas gave him a smile. “Well, it was wonderful to see all those things. But it’s even better to share them with you” he said, his voice soft and loving Dean only wanted to fall in his arms and let himself be hold all day long. He would have done that if that damn knife had not been there, pointy and dangerous between them.

He sighed. “Well, anyway, thanks for that” he said, putting the knife carefully back into its stealth. “You’ll just have to teach me how to use that, or otherwise I might just stab my own eye with it.”

Cas laughed, soft lines appearing around his eyes. “Yes, I will teach you. But even without my help, the tiniest cut would hurt any monster. It was forged especially to fight evil.”

Dean kept his eyes from opening wide. “Because that exists? Monster-killing knives and all?”

There was a flutter of wings and the second after Cas was gone, leaving Dean looking around. “Damn it, Cas!”

Cas reappeared, a grin on his face. He held out something to Dean and when he lowered his eyes to it, he saw he was holding an old looking gun, with a long, thin barrel and a wooden, carved handle.

“The Colt” Cas said, shaking his wings, water droplets falling around him. “With the right bullets-” he said, adding a little box in Dean’s hands, “You can kill any monster or demon.”

Dean looked at him, speechless. “And where do you find all that?”

Cas gave him a mischievous smile. “Let’s say I have my sources.”

“And they just give these to you because you asked nicely?”

“Well, I have my methods too” Cas answered, and cold, blue light filled his eyes, and even Dean had a little shiver in front of such celestial power.

He smiled and looked down at the knife and gun and box of bullets. “They just look so good, I don’t wanna ruin them” he said, putting them down carefully on the nearest table.

“They are yours, so you may do as you wish with them” Cas said, covering Dean with eyes melting of tenderness.

“You’re spoiling me” Dean laughed, making a step to take Cas in his arms, hiding his face in the dark of his neck, smiling against his warm skin.

“I know” Cas answered, “Maybe I will turn you into a real monster if I don’t stop.”

Dean laughed and traced his fingers against Cas’ ribs, making him wriggle, shivers sent deep into his veins. “Too late” Dean said, grinning against Cas’ hair, holding him close to his chest.

 

And so it became a thing. Cas would travel and bring back small things for Dean, as well with fresh batches of memories.

 

When Dean was busy at the bakery or when he was asleep and Cas was not, he would fly away and wander for a while, and always he’d feel the link between Dean and him, crossing lands and forests and oceans.

Dean would find said gifts somewhat where he least expected them. He was looking away one second and when he’d turn back, he would see something softly wrapped in delicate tissue on the counter or the pillow next to him.

 

Cas deeply enjoyed these trips. Yes, he had traveled many times in many places, but it was always for such dreadful task he barely enjoyed what the human world had to offer. But now, he was taking his time, finding bliss and pleasure in walking dusty streets or losing himself in deep, damp jungles.

He would breathe in the beauty of what hundreds of generations had built, and destroyed, and built again. He would walk and fly, both human and celestial, breathing the wind and the ether, and he would only come back when he felt the link tugging at his belly, meaning the distance was starting to weigh too heavy on him. Meaning Dean missed him, and he missed Dean. Golden deserts or turquoise oceans were wonderful, of course, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he fluttered back into Dean’s arms.

The gifts were only little things he passed by and though would please Dean. He only wanted to show him he thought about him even when he was away, but considering Dean’s reactions, it was much deeper than that when you were human. Tears would well in his eyes, and he would smile of awe, and he would take Cas in a hug so strong it pushed all the air out of Cas’ lungs.

It was sweet little nothings, really. Dark tea from Sri Lanka or strong coffee from Ethiopia, Moroccan lanterns that would throw mesmerizing shadows on the walls, leaves caged in raw embers found in the wilderness, feathers from colorful, exotic birds. There was even a ring of pure silver, a moonstone shining at its center like the eye of some great, higher creature.

Cas had found it in a huge market in India, and the glimmer of it had caught his eye, reminding him of how Dean’s soul looked. He knew Dean wasn’t much of the jewelery type, apart from the necklace his brother had given him when they were still children. But he had still tried, and his heart had nearly leaped out of his chest when Dean had gaped at it before he had put the strongest, most sweetly desperate kiss on his mouth.

From now on, Dean wore his brother’s amulet and Cas’ moonstone, little anchors that protected him and kept him safe from the great turmoil of his life.

 

Because despite everything that was good in it, there was such darkness rising Dean couldn’t pretend he didn’t see it anymore. He saw it in the way he was breathless after a few miles on foot, how his head spun sometimes, how the water would taint red in the shower when his nose would start to bleed. He would wake up covered in sweat, tears streaming down his face from bad dreams.

It was affecting Cas too, he could see that. But what he didn’t was that Cas was hunting high and low for a solution. Something that would rip this awful sickness from him and make him live for many more years.

He didn’t tell Dean at first. He didn’t want to give him too much hope and only see him break down even lower when they would both realize nothing would work.

So he left silently in the night and searched. He flew to small churches in Rome, colorful temples in Bangkok or isolated monasteries in Iceland. And he would search anything that could help him. Old books, mostly, often said to hold powerful magic and ancient spells that could scare the boldest souls. Some were said to be written on skin, in bright red blood, and people would speak about these legends in hushed, low voices as if the pages could hear them and come alive in the night.

He talked to many people, women and men, human or not, anyone that ever heard about something that could chase Death away. But every time the answer the same. It was impossible. Nothing mortal would avoid what came in time. Each soul had to die for another to be born.

 

Cas didn’t say anything and kept looking in each corner of the world. But one day he came home and Dean was looking under the bed, and before he could say anything Dean stood up, a large book covered in black leather and strange symbols in his hand.

“What’s that?” Dean said in mind, frowning at Cas.

Cas had a small sigh. “I’m trying to find a solution” he finally answered, his eyes sorrowful has they dived into Dean’s.

Dean only seemed more confused. “For what?”

“Your sickness” Cas said, and though it was clear Dean tried to hide it, a violent shiver ran through his whole body, proof he was truly scared about it.

“And what’s that going to do about it?” Dean asked, his voice sounding weaker in Cas’ mind.

Cas took a deep breath in. “It’s a spell book. There could be something in it that could cure you.”

Dean stared at him for several seconds, silent. He was still on the opposite side of the room, when he usually came running to Cas every time he came back. “You mean magic?” he asked, his eyes darkening, before he looked back at the book. An evil glow seemed to shine at the bottom of the rubies on the cover. “Isn’t that sort of risky?”

“It could be dangerous” Cas said, “But only for the person who will cast the spell.”

Dean rose his head at this. “You, you mean.”

“Yes.”

Dean shook his head. “Well, we ain’t doing that. I’m not putting you in danger if that means you’re getting hurt.”

“Dean” Cas said, strong enough for Dean to blink of surprise. “It is my choice.”

“It’s useless” Dean said, finally making a step to him after putting the book down on the bed. He approached Cas, eyes helpless and saddened. “Nothing will work and you know it.”

Cas felt his grace burning up inside of him. “I know there is a way. And I’m going to find it.”

Dean framed Cas’ face with his hands, fingers slightly trembling. “No, you’re not. You’re going to accept it, and when I’ll be gone, you’ll move on.”

Cas’ eyes grew so glacial Dean held himself from stepping back. “No. I won’t let you die. You mean too much to me, and no matter what I have to do to save you, I will do it.”

Dean sounded his eyes like great oceans and frowned. “What do you mean?”

Cas stared at him, face like the marble on serious statues. “I’m searching for a book with a special spell. One that could link our souls together. If you die, I die” Castiel said. “But my brothers and sisters would never kill me, so you would be safe.”

“But what if it’s someone else who kills me?” Dean asked, blinking as he tried to swallow back the despair invading him.

Cas stared at him, and he realized with bitterness the flaws of his plan. Sure, only a Reaper could collect Dean’s soul, but something else could end his life first, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with grace and halos and feathers.

“They wouldn’t try to kill an angel” Cas whispered as a last attempt to convince Dean.

“You don’t know that” Dean answered gently, and Cas closed his eyes, defeated.

“Then I’m going to look for something else. Maybe I can take the sickness inside of me. Maybe I can cast a spell and when a Reaper will think it’s your soul he’s reaping, in reality it’ll be mine.”

“No” Dean said firmly, making Cas’ eyes snap back open. “No, you will not sacrifice yourself for nothing. We’re done with searching solutions that will only make things worse. Done, OK?”

 

Cas looked away, silent.

“Cas” Dean insisted, all his mind pushing against Cas’. “I can’t lose you. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if we died together because of me.”

“You wouldn’t know. You’d be dead either way” Cas snapped and the violence of his words froze Dean in place, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words would come out of it. He made a small step back and suddenly it wasn’t the warm, soft-spoken Cas he knew anymore, but a creature fueled by light and rage, desperate to find a way out of the chaos that was the Universe.

“If I don’t do anything, you’ll die. If I do, maybe you’ll die too” Cas continued, his eyes now filled with a sharp, icy glow. “But there’s a chance you’ll live too, so I’m not going to ignore all the possibilities just because it could kill me. This isn’t about me.”

Tears burnt in Dean’s eyes. “Then, why can’t it be about _us_?”

“Dean, I’m the one who’ll be left behind if you die!” Cas practically shouted, knives diving in Dean’s skull. “You want to worry about me? Then, hear me now. Either I die saving you, meaning in the best way I could hope for, or I let you die doing nothing, and I live the rest of my existence in regret, and you can consider me just as dead!” His features were tense and glacial, though his grace was bubbling like hot lava. “And if you cannot accept that, I might just as well cast a spell on you and give my life for you, so you won’t remember anything of me when I’ll be gone!”

Finally, the tears sprang from Dean’s eyes. He burst into heavy, painful sobs and has several steps back. It froze Cas’ rage, and suddenly everything fell down and he just stood there, staring at Dean completely defenseless, feeling like the worst creation in all the universe.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean shouted out loud, his vision so blurry he could barely see Cas in front of him, tears turning his silhouette into melting feathers and bright blue eyes. “We’ve been through Hell together and you expect me to let you die, just so I can keep on living like nothing happened?! You want to brainwash me so I won’t feel guilty about it?!” Dean dived his eyes into Cas’, and they’re burning of pain. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, whether you like it or not! I love you, Cas, and I won’t let you fucking die cause if I did, I’d be better off dead.”

 

The storm ceased, leaving damp lands but exhausted, empty minds. They stared at each other, breathless and though it hurt so awfully, it felt like the questions hanging above them like a sword had finally been answered.

“Dean, I’m sorry...” Cas began, making a tiny steps to Dean, tears welling in his eyes as one of his wings stretched to touch Dean’s arm.

“You knew I wouldn’t accept it, so why did you do it?” Dean asked, giving him a desperate look.

“I’d rather see you live hating me then die loving me” Cas murmured and his eyes had lost all their glow, as sorrowful and hopeless and full of shame as human eyes can be.

Dean had a strangled sob and finally he close the distance that was like a canyon between them and he collided against Cas’ chest like a shooting star. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, tied like a knot, and he pulled him close to him, burying his face in the dark of his neck.

Cas could barely breathe as hundreds of emotions came flooding his grace. He surrounded Dean’s waist with his own arms and let his tears create river on Dean’s skin. “I’m so sorry” he thought and he heard Dean sob again against him. “I just don’t want anything wrong to happen to you.”

“I don’t care about that” Dean said, his hands now gripping Cas’ hair, fingertips diving in soft, silky strands. “All that matters is everything good that happened to me.” He pressed a trembling kiss against Cas’ collarbone. “Nothing matters just as long as you’re here.”

 

**X**

 

So this is how humans felt like, Castiel thought as he turned around one more time in the bed. Among tangled limbs and hungry mouths pressed against each other, he had promised Dean he would not put himself in harm’s way to save him. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt like he could never be faithful to that promise. He loved Dean too much to give up on him so easily.

In the night he wondered how Death felt like to humans. When it happened not to them, but to the people dear to them who were just gone one day. Did they feel as helpless as him in that moment or did they just accept their fate, because there was nothing they could do about it.

And maybe that was just better. Because Cas knew there was magic in the world and that an incredible energy ran through his veins, yet he couldn’t do a damn thing for Dean. Maybe it was just more angering to know there were possibilities, but they were all out of reach when you tried to grasp them and you kept on living, still seeing them far away in the distance.

And suddenly Cas felt angry about everything. He thought that if he hadn’t come close to Dean, he wouldn’t feel so torn apart now. He thought that if he had been built the right away and not with a heart constantly weeping and sighing, he could get through this and continue living through eternity. And then he was angry at himself for being so cold and monstrous, because he knew Dean was the best thing that happened to him, and if he hadn’t spoken to him the first time, then he would have probably kept on living with a great void in his chest.

And now he was angry at the world. All of it, earth, water and stars. He was angry at the way things were, how Fate seemed to be a thread of iron you couldn’t cut. And how cursed was he, to know the gears of the universe, to know everything from beginning to end! And how beautiful, and how hopeful the humans were, to think they could choose their own path! Of course, some decisions weren’t predicted and confused the celestial beings, but in the end, each road came to the same destination.

He was angry at his Father, for making humans mortal. Some were bad to the core, some were meant to do evil in the world. But oh, all the others! Some did wonderful things, turned their lives into true pieces of art, threaded with love and hope and joy, walking side by side with the people they met on the way. But no matter what, they had to die. To die peacefully in their sleep, if peaceful can be used when talking about your soul being ripped out of your body, sucked by blue, luminous lips; or to die in pain, struck by the underlying chaos of the Universe.

And more than everything, he was angry at himself. For being one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, yet being completely useless when he has to save Dean. He was just as good as a speck a dust, a gust of wind.

 

His fists curled into balls, gripping the cold sheets and he clenched his jaw, trying to repress the rage boiling inside him. But soon, the tears burst from his eyes and he was suddenly shaken by heavy sobs. He tried to silence them, but they came again and again, making his breathing raspy and loud, and he buried his nose under the covers, trying not to wake Dean.

His attempt at silence was in vain for a few seconds after Dean stirred and rolled around, before he wrapped his arms around Cas, bringing him closer to his hot chest.

Cas took a heavy, trembling breath. “How did you-” he began to think, confused.

“Your thoughts woke me” Dean answered, his voice soft and still heavy of sleep in Cas’ head. “There’s no hiding from me, Cas. I don’t need to _hear_ you to know something’s wrong.”

More tears rolled down Cas’ cheeks and his body felt so weak he couldn’t keep his wings from spreading from his back, all silky and luminous. He folded them around him, covering Dean at the same time.

“I just don’t know what to do...” Cas said. “I-I feel so useless.”

“You’re not” Dean answered and he tucked Cas’ head under his chin, rocking him slightly. “No one could change things the way you want to.”

There was a little beat of silence and Cas realized he was starting to fall asleep, his body going numb and warm against Dean’s, his being soothed by how close he was to him.

“I can’t live without you. I know it.”

“You’re strong” Dean softly answered, “You’ll get through it.”

“It’s not about strength, Dean. It’s about the way I need you more than anything” Cas said, moving from Dean’s chest with great difficulty. “You do realize you turned my life upside down?”

Dean’s lips actually drew into a small smile. “Is that a bad thing?”

Cas couldn’t help but have a little laugh. “Maybe not” he said, and he curled back against Dean, his arms folded against his chest, feeling his breathing under his palms. “But that means I can’t get over you, no matter how strong I try to be.”

Dean stood silent, thinking. “Do you really think there’s a way to… save me?” he finally said.

Cas sighed in the silence. “I don’t know. I wish, and deep down I _feel_ like there’s a way. But I don’t know how.”

Dean moved on the bed closer to Cas, and if his arms surrounded him even more protectively, Cas suspected the fear rose in Dean again and he needed to reassure himself.

“Maybe we’ll find it” Dean said, and his voice sounded more distant as Cas slipped into deep slumber, his body empty of any energy after the burst of anger his grace had.

Cas’ head found its place against Dean’s ribs and he closed his eyes, content against the steady beat of his heart. “I won’t let you go that easily, that I know” he muttered, already half asleep.

Dean smiled and the second after Cas’ breathing had slowed down and he was asleep, strong and soothing by his side.

 

Outside, some dogs began to bark and howl under the heavy moon, and it sent cold shivers down Dean’s spine. He thought for a second about getting up to check if there was something outside, but suddenly the growls seemed to be just outside his window and he froze in the bed.

Something dreadful resonated from the fields to the insides of his chest, making his heart shiver. A taste of burning and ashes covered his tongue and he curled even closer to Cas, frozen by a dread he couldn’t quite comprehend. For now.

 

**X**

 

Only pet owners know that particular feeling when they realize said pet isn’t home any more. When they escape your watch and suddenly they’re just out there, in the wilderness, and the swirling void in your chest only grows bigger with each minute of nail biting and anxious pacing.

Dean never knew it until that day. Colt and Wesson were obedient, nice dogs and even if they weren’t, they liked their comfort. They would have never dared to escape and get their paws damp and dirty.

 

That night, Dean opened the door to them when he came from the bakery, and they stormed outside without looking back. If he had been a tiny bit less tired, he’d have seen they had soon crossed the border between his yard and the wide fields, but he was already sitting at the table, rubbing his sore temples.

It was getting more and more difficult to bear his sickness while pretending everything was aright. He felt so exhausted and hollow all the time, and on some days he could barely find the strength to get out of bed. And most of all, he was so terribly scared of being alone.

Sam was supposed to drop by, and though Dean knew it was because Sam was devoured by worry and wanted to check on him like a little wounded animal, he didn’t mind. He only wanted to be near someone, so afraid he would die alone someday.

Cas was off somewhere in Russia, searching for a woman that apparently made potions and spells. Dean’s lips tugged into a smile when he remembered of when Cas came back one day with a handful of pure, pristine snow in his hands and together they watched it melt in a few minutes. It was way too warm here to snow, and these little moments had passed so quickly, but it had been enough to open Dean’s eyes wide like a child’s.

 

He sighed and leaned back on his chair, stretching his sore muscles. He got up to prepare a little snack, waiting for Cas, and he was about to throw a tiny piece of ham to his dogs, when he realized they weren’t there.

He frowned and turned around, but no, they were not any further. He stopped all that he was doing and walked to the window pane, peeking his head outside, the cold, brutal wind hitting his face with merciless fingers.

“Colt? Wesson?” he called out, squinting at the darkness, ready to see two familiar shapes running towards him.

But nothing came and he stood in half cold and half warmth for a few seconds, puzzled. His heartbeats started to race and though he tried to ignore it, a bad, black feeling settled in his belly. He came back inside and grabbed his coat and a flashlight, before he went outside, shivering at both the weather and the darkness, thick and surrounding him.

He walked down his yard into the fields and called his dogs’ names, his light piercing through the blackness in a golden ring, and at each sweep of it he expected to see them, but again, they were nowhere to be seen.

His pace accelerated and he tightened his jacket around him, freezing to the bone. His voice grew broken and worried as he called and called, and there he was, imagining the worst. That his dogs were missing for good, that he wasn’t going to see them ever again, that maybe they had crossed the road and a careless truck had passed and-

 

The flow of his dark thoughts was stopped when something glimmered red in the dark, somewhere lost in the woods.

 

He held his breath and made a few steps, and it was like his mind summoned every ghost story and chilling murder news he had heard in his life. Suddenly, he felt as if he wasn’t alone anymore, as if the trees had turned into evil creatures in the night. And he hated his sickness more than ever, certain he could hear footsteps on the frozen field or faint breathing around him.

He swallowed hardly and kept walking, still calling his dogs’ names, his voice echoing all around him under the moonlight and heavy clouds. He was about to turn away to try another direction when something suddenly moved in the shadows.

Dean froze, his heart beating so fast he could feel the thin skin of his wrists pulsing. He couldn’t run away even if he wanted to, he could only stand there and stare at the moving darkness, breathing painful and head full of terror.

And then he saw Colt and Wesson emerge from the shadows of the trees and all the tension crumbled down. He knelt by their side, and stroke their furs.

“You dumb sons of-” he began, before he swallowed back the ball of worry that had shaped in his throat. “You worried me sick!” he said, nonetheless pulling them close to him in a comforting embrace.

And then Colt’s little body shook as if he had barked, and at first Dean thought he had hurt him, so he moved back. But the dog wasn’t looking at him, but straight at the small woods, his tiny body shivering, his teeth bared as when a low growl was rising in his throat. A glance at Wesson showed Dean it was the same for him. The old dog seemed to be completely shaken, his paws shuddering, his body curling against the ground as if to make himself small.

Dean frowned. “Aw, come on, what’s wrong?” he said, stroking Wesson’s fur, before he rose his head to the woods, wanting to see what was making his dogs so nervous.

 

And there his heart stopped, sunk in the dark as it froze of fear.

The red lights he had caught a glimpse of a few seconds before shined in front of him. At first, he thought that maybe some cars were passing by on the road behind the trees, or that it was just a trick of his imagination.

But no, those lights were real, and worse than that, they moved. They _blinked_. Blinked like evil stars, slowly approaching him, hidden among the darkness.

Dean’s dogs whined, pressing their tiny, trembling bodies against him, but he couldn’t hear the despair and fear in their cries. Only stare at those ruby lights, tiny dots that were sharp like needles in his skull.

And then a growl resonated, and he needed a few seconds before he realized he _heard_ it. Just like Cas’ voice in his mind, these deep, low sounds echoed in his skull, but it was neither soothing nor enchanting. It was terrifying.

Dean stood hastily, stumbled back on the frozen fields, and he couldn’t bring himself to run. His limbs were heavy and cold, his lungs tight of fear. His vision blinked, blurred as if he was about to pass out, but he bit his tongue and stood in the rough wind, trying to be as strong as possible in front of those red lights that kept coming closer. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Yes, just his imagination, and he was actually a fool thinking there was anything unnatural in them.

That is what he thought until the red dots finally came out of the shadows.

One paw landed on the short, dry grass and Dean felt the wave of shock passing right through his ribcage. And then a chest and a head covered of fur as black as the night appeared, and then a maw opened to let him see sharp, white teeth. One silhouette emerged out of the woods, and then two, and then three, and then there were ten of them.

Dean wanted to believe it was just big dogs, or at the very worst, wolves. But something in his guts told him these creatures were way beyond the human world. They were just too huge, too impressive, with shiny claws and fangs, fur dressed on their curled spines, tails whipping the air with streaks of electricity. And most of all, there were those eyes red as blood, eyes that seemed to see right through Dean as if he were made of glass. In them, he saw flames and pits of hot lava, smokes and ashes, pain in its most liquid, pure form.

He stumbled back and raised his hands as if it could do anything good. As if the creatures were any near to listen to him. Because it was now clear they had come for him. Cas had told him that some beasts could been drawn to him after his soul had breathed into the open, but it seemed impossible that they would dare to come close to someone protected by an angel.

Dean felt his heart racing in his chest, and he felt like he might just be overwhelmed with emotion and drop on the cold ground. But he clenched his fists and in a desperate, yet determined motion he turned back and started running.

Dogs were fast, it wasn’t new. But these creatures were more than that. Dean was racing through the fields, his dogs on his heels, and his breathing was raspy and loud in the night, and his ribs hurt, and yet the wolves-like demons were close to him. Too damn close.

He could feel their fetid breaths on the back of his neck, feel the ground shake under their brutal race. The most terrifying was that he just couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t know how close they truly were without turning back and turning back meant slowing down, and slowing down meant possibly dying. If that wasn’t a certainty.

He saw the warm dot of light that was his house in the distance, and he ran faster, wishing to be rapid like the comets in the sky, but never to crash down. The wind hit his face with merciless, cold as ice hands, but he didn’t care. He just kept running, feeling like his heart could explode at any moment.

And then his mind seemed to finally switch on the light, and he thought of Cas. The link in his belly tugged at him and he reached through the dark to him, searching for the tiny spark of gold in the shadow. He shouted his name as loud as he could, and he wanted to close his eyes to focus better, but all he could think about was the sharp claws shining like silver knives under the moon, and how they could easily rip his flesh apart, shed the blood on the white grass.

He thought, _that’s it, I’m going to die alone_. And not peacefully in his bed, but torn apart by dogs with red eyes and chattering teeth, and God, how would they find his body? Would there be anything left to bury, but tiny bloody threads of flesh? He clenched his jaw when the tears came to well in his eyes, and he thought of Sam and his mom, and all his friends. Being dying was already hard enough for them to bear, so he didn’t want to bring them more suffering by giving them his most theatrical death.

He thought that he was alone now, that Cas was too far away and couldn’t hear him, and maybe he would come home in a few hours, and would find the carnage outside, and maybe the book of spells he had just found would drop from his hands, and then it would all be over. No more worry to have, no more hopeless searches. Dean had the bitter thought that maybe it would be easier. That perhaps the dogs would eat him whole, clean the bones of all meat and then turn them to dust, and he would be just gone. And there wouldn’t be any more quest for dangerous spells and poisonous cures and Cas could move on.

 

But before he could drown any more in his dark thoughts, there was a blinding blow of light and suddenly strong arms swept him aside and before he knew he was standing behind Castiel, his wings wide open shielding him from the wolves.

These ones stopped a few feet from Cas, staring at him with their eyes so uncannily intelligent they almost seemed human. Cas could hear the growl rising in their throats, low and deep and threatening and he clenched his fists, light flooding in his eyes.

“Leave” he said, his voice making the woods shudder, echoing like a hundreds.

Dean himself shivered, the single word escaping from Cas’ mouth and mind so sharp and full of danger making him want to curl into a ball on the ground. He expected the wolves to do the same, but instead their wide maws seemed to curl into odd smiles, and suddenly one of them jumped on them.

Castiel didn’t hesitate and in a second, he dived his blade right into the creature’s heart, or rather the swirling void where it was supposed to be, and bright, bloody light filled the beast’s skull, and then it dropped on the ground, lifeless.

“Shit!” Dean couldn’t help but shout, his breathing quick, his heartbeats painful in his chest.

Cas slowly stepped back to stand beside him, his eyes never leaving the evil creatures. “You remember what I taught you?” he said in his mind and Dean turned to him, frowning, even though all his attention was taken by the beasts still standing in front of them.

“Yeah, but-”

“Now is the time you use it. The house is still too far away, you cannot run to it, they would catch you before you could even reach it” Cas said, and his eyes dived into Dean’s, wide and soapy and bottomless.

“I can’t fight, Cas, I don’t know how!” Dean said, his voice desperate in Cas’ skull.

“You can” he answered as he put his blade in Dean’s hand. The contact was ice cold, despite Cas’ warm palm that held it a few seconds before. “You just have to distract them, or I cannot fight them alone. Can you do that?” he asked and though he didn’t move, it felt like his hands framed Dean’s face, and all his soul collided against his.

 

Dean didn’t answer, only nodded. He wanted to reach towards him, maybe press a hard kiss to his mouth as if to wish good luck, or say goodbye, but before he could even blink, another wolf, visibly annoyed by their silent conversation, leaped from the ground to jump on Cas, the glow of his wings shining in the beast’s red eyes.

They came tumbling down on the frozen soil, and Dean shouted Cas’ name out loud, tears spurting from his eyes at the sight of him pinned under the wolf’s huge body.

But then he realized he shouldn’t worry about Cas. Because this one pushed the dog away as if it was just a puppy and with a swift motion he put his palms flat against his skull, filling it with white-blue light, burning his eyes as the creature howled of pain and rage, before heavily falling back on the ground.

 

A motion at the corner of Dean’s eye caught his attention and he turned around to face another beast.

 

He remembered what Cas had taught him, and eased his heartbeats down. There were only two ways out of his, no matter how bad he hated this black and white vision of the world: either he survived or he died. But in both case, he had to fight. He couldn’t just let the wide maws swallow him whole.

_Breathe_ , he told himself. _Set your feet on the ground. Look around, watch your enemy carefully. Be cleverer, faster than him. And_ act _._

And so he did, aiming the blade for the beast’s chest when it leaped towards him, all claws ready to dive in his soft flesh. He didn’t succeed to kill it, but he did distract the creature when the tip of the knife scratched it, and it came rolling on the ground near him. Dean took advantage of his shock and threw himself on the soil and dived the blade in its belly, deep and brutal. _Efficient_.

 

Realization suddenly hit him as the blood flowed, thick and black and smelling like iron. He had just killed something for the first time. And it was terrifying.

And his hands were stained, and now they shook, and his whole body trembled, and God, were there really evil wolves sent to kill him? He was on his knees, looking around at the treetops and stars and he was just lost.

And then he heard his name shouted in his skull and he turned around, still stunned, to see Cas staring at him, light racing through his veins, fluorescent under his skin.

“Fight” he told him, and so Dean did.

He stood up again, blade in hand, and soon he was fighting back to back with Cas, and it all felt so natural. As if Dean was born a warrior, and he and Cas were meant to fight side by side. Perhaps it was the case in another life.

He turned around, ready to smite another beast but he was now facing the empty, silent field. At least ten wolves corpses were scattered on the ground, all bloody and burned, lives ended by both human and celestial hands.

 

Dean let out a strangled breath and the blade dropped from his hand, and he felt his legs giving underneath him. Cas caught him against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.

“Shh” he whispered in his mind, “It’s going to be OK. You fought. And you survived” he said, stroking Dean’s hair, damp of sweat and blood, and somehow he felt closer to him, all that violence and chaos resonating in him like the heavenly battles he had fought centuries ago.

Together, they came back to the house, shivering under the cold and fear, clinging to each other like a sinking man to a safe boat. They kept glancing around, afraid more creatures would come from the pits of Hell. But the only thing that made them start was a the soft blow of their bodies turning to powder, light burning ashes floating in the air.

When they had arrived inside they immediately closed the window pane behind them, before even taking a new breath. They stood before it, panting, sweat beading on their skin, blood dripping from their hands.

 

Then, there must have been sound, for Cas suddenly turned around in a swift motion, nearly knocking into Dean. This one frowned and turned to look at what had caught his attention, and his heart froze in his chest.

Sam stood before them, eyes wide open and a grocery bag fallen at his feet. His lips shaped a world that looked much like Dean’s name, and his stare kept jumping from Cas to him, before settling on Castiel, his expression growing even more surprised than before.

Dean was confused at first, and then he thought that it must be the sweat and blood, but then a small glimpse of light shined in the corner of his eye. He turned and suddenly he understood.

 

Castiel stood near him, all shiny grace and eyes filled with light, but more importantly, his wings were half spread on his sides, long, luminous feathers that slowly beat in the warm air, curving above his head like the arches of ancient churches, except they were made of pure, raw moonlight.

And if Dean stood a little second admiring him, he soon realized his brother was still standing there, mouth half open of shock, incapable of uttering a sound or moving his hands in any way.

Because he had just no idea of what the _hell_ was going on in that moment. And it was going to be quite a story to explain it all, Dean thought with a sigh.

 

Talk about a bad day!


	6. The Time Has Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, again I'm so sorry for taking so long but this fic turned out to be so much more complex than I expected! But anyway, I do hope you'll enjoy this new chapter! :)

Sam couldn’t do anything but stare at them. His mouth opened and closed and opened again, and maybe sounds came out of it, but Dean wouldn’t know. Sam’s eyes jumped from him to Cas, and back and forth, and his gaze watered of shock and incomprehension, and Dean saw how bad he wanted to move, to react when all his body was frozen.

Beside him, Cas had curled his wings close to his body, but he had not hidden them. It was useless now – Sam had seen them and concealing them would only make him think he was pretending to be something he was not. So he just stood by Dean’s side, trying to make his body as small as possible, making his grace melt from his eyes to dive in the dark of his bones. He didn’t try to look human, just a little less celestial if that was possible. Something between sky and earth, stardust and ocean water. Something between the ethereal breezes of Heaven and the cold winds of the human world.

Dean made a little step to Sam, but his brother’s eyes were fixed strong on Cas’, staring at him with fear and shock. But deep inside them he could see a little spark of fascination, a childish curiosity in front of these feathers and halos and pearls of light floating around Cas. Dean couldn’t blame him, he had felt the same at first. After all, wasn’t it the most human thing to feel, to be both afraid and mesmerized by what was beyond you?

“Sam” Dean said out loud, and finally his brother turned to look at him, his eyes wide open as if he had turned back into a little child.

“We’re gonna sit down, OK?” Dean signed and he walked slowly to his brother, taking him by the elbow to lead him to the couch. It’s only later that he realized his hands were still damp with hellhound blood, making him wince of disgust as he left a sticky handprint on Sam’s shirt. Sam seemed reluctant to turn his back to Cas but he finally let his brother walk him away and he sat down, his eyes soon flickering back to Castiel who was still standing in the kitchen.

 

Dean sighed and walked to the sink to wash his hands. The water felt cool on his skin, but it was like a distant sensation, a gate raised between his skin and the water. In the past few days, he had felt his touch slipping away. It was very faint, and he couldn’t even say he was bothered by it yet. Maybe it had been weeks since he had began to lose it, but it was a sense so small he wasn’t caring too much about it.

When the blood had finished flowing from his palms to the mouth of the sink, he dried his hands and walked back to Sam, sitting by his side while Cas sat on an armchair on the opposite side of them.

Sam’s mouth opened and he surely said something, but Dean couldn’t know. It made him so angry, that this sickness was stealing everything from him, including his duty to take care of his brother.

Sam rose his head to him and he seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes opened even wider, and he felt so ashamed he dropped his gaze back onto his lap.

“What is happening?” he signed, his hands betraying his emotions. His gestures were clumsy, desperate, sorrowful even, the language of someone who was suddenly overwhelmed by a situation he couldn’t quite understand.

Dean sighed. Where could he even begin? He was not supposed to tell Sam, ever. He didn’t want Sam to be drawn into the whirl of chaos that his life had become. What if creatures like the Hounds came after him when they smelled Dean on him? What if monsters worse than that used Sam to make Dean accept his death?

Dean shuddered at the very thought of it. He rose his head to look at Cas, seeking comfort in the deep blue of his eyes that were already staring at him.

 _Tell him everything_ , Cas thought, nodding at Dean. And Dean realized Cas trusted him more than anyone.

He was not supposed to tell any humans of what he was, or what he was meant to do on Earth, yet he revealed himself to Dean, and now let him tell his story to Sam, when nothing forced him to do so. Maybe that was just what love was about, Dean thought. Trusting the other person with everything you have, the deepest, darkest secrets. Trusting them with small parts of your own soul, and trusting them to use them carefully, to keep them silent, or to choose the right persons to share them with. Or otherwise you might just crumble into dust because of their carelessness.

But if you chose the right person to deliver your secrets, then you may never have to worry about it, for they would be too scared to break you to ever do harm. And Dean was ready to do anything to keep Cas safe, and both of them knew it.

 

“Listen, Sam, I’m gonna tell you everything” Dean said out loud, and God, how strange was it to feel the words vibrate in his throat and roll on his tongue, yet not being able to hear the sound of them popping out of his mouth and filling his skull. He took a deep breath and gave Cas a last look to give himself some strength. Sam was staring at him, waiting, his eyes filled with fear and incomprehension and so much curiosity.

 

Dean sighed and began. “Cas is an angel. A Reaper, actually. Yeah, I know, it’s already a lot to take, but wait for the rest” he said when Sam’s eyes snapped wide open. “His job is to watch over people who are going to have potential violent deaths, and then he sort of guides their souls to the afterlife. That’s why he was sent to me.” Dean’s eyes fell on his lap, his fingers nervously knotting together. “But thing is, we’ve been looking for a way to avoid, you know, my dying. And at some point another Reaper came and started taking my soul away while I was sleeping-” Dean stopped for a moment when he saw the horror spreading on Sam’s features, before he continued, his voice softer. “And because of that, all creatures and freaking monsters smelled my soul from miles and are coming for me. That’s why we’re, _well_ , like this” he finished, gesturing at the blood splattered on his shirt.

Sam stayed quiet, both in words and in hands, and the silence stretched and stretched, so long Dean began to feel uneasy, moving on his seat with anguish. What if it was too much for Sam to take? What if he left to never come back, turn his back on Dean no matter what they’ve been through together? Dean felt the emotion growing in his throat and he held back a sob, dreading Sam’s reaction.

But instead of that, a smile pulled the corners of Sam’s mouth up into a smile as he signed, “Do you remember what Mom used to tell us when we were kids? That angels were watching over us?” His eyes finally met Dean’s and they were filled by the same genuine affection. “I guess she was right.”

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, speechless. He just couldn’t believe it. “That’s it?” he signed, stunned. “You’re not going to freak out or anything?”

Sam had a small laugh and Dean wished more than everything he could hear that tiny, joyful sound that had turned Sam’s mouth into a thin slice of sunlight. “I mean, that’s unusual. And I’m not sure I understand it, but I guess I just always wanted something else to exist. I remember when Dad used to tell us stories of monsters and demons and angels, and I would just wish them to be true.”

Dean blinked again, completely shocked. He glanced at Cas, only to see he looked equally surprised, the long feathers of his wings loose around him, draped over the armchair like one would put a careless hand.

Sam had a loud sigh that resonated through the whole room and he sank into the couch, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. His eyes found Cas’ and there was no fear in it, just some kind of great curiosity that made them wide and shiny and hungry for knowledge.

“You know,” he said, his hands translating at the same time to keep Dean in the conversation, “I’ve been dreaming about angels and monsters my whole life. I was so sure there was something else in the world, something we humans couldn’t see. Everyone thought I was too crazy or too dreamy, so I stopped talking about it. But…” His lips drew in a smile. “Now, I’m glad to know my dreams weren’t in vain.” His eyes briefly flickered with pain. “And my dad used to believe in that kind of stuff too, and he wasn’t a good dad for sure, but I’m glad he was right about one thing in the end.”

Cas listened to him, silent as he focused on every word. He wanted to ask the brothers about their father so badly, but he felt as if he was walking through the corridor of their lives and this door was still closed to him. Dean had never talked about it and even in that moment he was looking down at his lap, quiet.

 

But later, when Dean was asleep, curled on the couch as the sickness struck carrying exhaustion in its pace, he couldn’t keep the words from flowing from his tongue.

 

Sam was sitting at the table, head buried in his hands. He had to leave to rejoin Eileen, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, just not now. He felt such a deep dread rooted in his belly that he couldn’t leave without being one hundred percent sure his brother was alright. And seeing him looking so small and shivering of cold and dreams, he was more worried than ever.

Cas came to put a cup of steaming tea in front of him, before he sat down too. Sam rose his head and thanked him with a smile. There was a small moment of silence where the spoons just turned in circle in their cups, and then Sam’s curiosity seemed to precede Cas’.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam said, his voice tiny and shy like a child’s.

“Yes, of course” Cas answered, diving his eyes into his.

“What’s Heaven like?” Sam blurted in one breath, as if he was afraid his curiosity would break Castiel into celestial chaos. “I mean, is it… good?”

Cas let out a little sigh. “Well, I am not sure I know if it’s good or bad. But what I can say is that it’s much different from what humans think it is.”

“How so?” Sam asked, frowning of confusion.

“For centuries, humans saw it as a place of warmth and peace and love. But truth is, Heaven is _cold_ ” Cas said, his voice low and almost melancholic. “I didn’t realize it at first, and I never thought there was anything wrong with it, but now I just realize it’s… empty.

“Oh” Sam only said, and Cas wished he could have weaved a beautiful story of endless fields of wild flowers and sunlight for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to him.

After a moment, he said, “Can I ask you something too?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure” he answered, before briefly glancing to Dean, his eyes softening at the sight of him curled in deep sleep. He then looked back at Cas.

Castiel searched his words for a few seconds, not sure how to say it in a respectful and not morbidly curious way. “I meant to ask Dean about your father but… he never seemed to be willing to talk about it.” He looked at Sam, his chest opening wide at the eagerness burning his ribs. “What was he like for him to act as if he never existed?”

Sam sighed and his glance dropped into his cup of hot tea. He then took a deep breath and lied back against the chair. “Well, we don’t have much memories of our father, and we don’t wish to have any more” he said, his voice thin and sorrowful. He did not really want to talk about it, but seeing Cas’ warm and encouraging face, he felt a deep need of confessing what was sometimes heavy in his heart.

“Our dad wasn’t… a good person” he finally said, his voice small like a whisper. “I mean, my mom says that he was always nice when she met him, and I actually have some memories of him playing and laughing with us. But well, I guess he just wasn’t made to have kids. He liked to travel. He and my mom, they liked to just hit the road and live in the wild and just sleep for days in those crappy motels. But when Dean and then me arrived, he realized it was over. And… it changed him. At first, he tried, he really did. But then he just drifted away from us, and eventually found out liquor was better than our company.”

Cas gave him a sorrowful look, but Sam only answered with a thin smile. Though it hurt, he couldn’t change anything about it. “He just made anything not to be with us, but when he was, he was so cold and just so angry we’d rather stay away.” His brow furrowed. “I remember when Dean came home with his first boyfriend. Our dad just got so angry my mom had to make him leave before he did anything stupid.” He finally sighed, exhausted. “And eventually, months and months later she found out he was cheating on her. So she left him.”

Castiel stared at him, wide-eyed. His heart ached to know both Sam and Dean had to live through such contempt and hatred when they did nothing to deserve it, but to be born. “I’m sorry, Sam” he said, his voice honey-sweet. “I want so hard to believe all humans are good, but it’s not true, right?”

Sam had a poor, sad smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Cas’ hands cupped his mug and his wings curled closer to him, as if to get him warm. “If I may ask, where is he now?”

A brief flash of pain appeared in Sam’s eyes before it was drowned in the blurry lakes of the past. “One evening, he came knocking really hard on our door, begging my mom to let him come back with us. But she refused and he got really mad, and left right away.” His voice grew a little distant. “The next morning, some cops came to tell us his car had been found crashed against a tree on the side of the road. They said my dad had drunk, and that he surely died because of the shock.”

“Oh” Cas whispered and he blinked several times, not so sure of how to deal with that. It made him a little bitter that Dean never told him about this, but he then realized there were things that were preferred to never be told, or they would open old wounds that had finally healed. “I’m sorry” he just repeated and let a bit of his grace come shining down on Sam, golden and soothing.

Sam sighed. “Thank you” he said, finally smiling again at Cas. “I’m just glad Dean has you in his life. And I’m glad I have you too.” His eyes then seemed to fill with a little worry and he leaned towards Cas, sounding his blue stare. “Could I ask you something?”

Cas nodded. “Of course.”

“Could you help me find anything to save Dean?” he said, so desperate and overwhelmed by emotion Cas felt his own heart sinking in his chest.

“I already tried, Sam. I found nothing...”

Sam’s features crumbled. “But-but there must be something. Something to heal him!” His eyes then widened. “Couldn’t you do it? Since you’re an angel-” His words trailed off at the sight of the tears welling in Cas’ eyes.

“I tried. But I can’t” he whispered, his lips a thin, bitter line. “I’m powerless.” He then looked back at Sam, something dark and strong flaming in his eyes. “But I promise you I will try again and again, if that’s what you want me to do.”

Sam stayed silent a moment. “There must be a way” he repeated, shaking his head. “He’s my brother, I can’t loose him.”

Cas had a small smile, and in this moment he knew he wasn’t alone in that dark well he was falling into. “You won’t” he said and the tip of one of his feather reached to Sam, landing light and soft on his arm in a soothing touch. “I promise.”

 

And as if his words had some kind of mysterious power, Dean’s sleep seemed to ease of fever and nightmare and he had a small sigh of ease, and curled back into a slumber soft as a bird’s wing.

 

X

 

Do you know the strange and not-so-funny thing about losing your sense of touch?

You loose your very grasp on the Universe itself.

 

That’s how Dean felt. As if the entire world was slipping away from him, as if this realm was just clear water in his cupped palms and it was flowing, flowing between his clumsy fingers.

He never really thought about it. After all, there were senses much more important in life. Hearing, sight were worth the grieving, but touch? What would it do if it was gone? It could even better if it wasn’t there: no more sticky feeling in the subway, no more sweaty palms or rough marble against sensitive hands.

But Dean soon realized there was a lot to mourn for.

Again, it came slowly, settling surely inside his body but once he truly noticed how strong it had became, it was too late to enjoy the little sensation he had.

What he missed most, perhaps, was _human_ touch. There just was so much comfort about it, something raw and ancient and vital. Tears welled in his eyes at the very thought of it. He found himself deeply missing hugs and handshakes and hands on his shoulder. Once again, he felt as if he had been robbed of a part of himself, his illness like a thief slipping into the night.

He felt so bitter, and so _lonely_. Though he tried to be strong, and managed to do so most of the time, he admitted that sometimes it was just so hard. He couldn’t taste his pastries, he couldn’t smell the soft earth of spring, damp of rain. He couldn’t hear his family’s laugh or the birds chirping in the trees, and now he couldn’t even feel the touch of a hand.

It made him feel hollow. His brother could press his shoulder or Cas could come behind him and wrap his arms around his waist, he wouldn’t know. At night, he would curl close to the angel and just try to _feel_. He would put his palm flat against Cas’ chest and see it rise and fall on the rhythm of his breathing, but he wouldn’t feel the heat of his skin or the fabric of his clothes. It was as if he had been cut out from his world, a dead newborn thrown in the river, a ghost only capable to see, but never to act.

 

One night, he felt sadder than usual. Well, he had felt sad for the past few days, a deep, blue feeling floating around him like a bad omen, but this evening, he just felt as if he was drowning in it.

He had been watching the television with Cas, and he had left for bed, pretending his eyes hurt of tiredness and too much subtitles-reading. But truth was, he felt the tears rising, the sobs gathering in his throat. He just missed the feel of Cas’ soft hair against his fingertips, his shoulder pressed against his, his hand tied to his own. He missed feeling his warmth and light, and he felt so alone a great cry rose to his mouth and he hurried to the bedroom in fear of letting it out.

It was a cry of pure pain. It was red and pulsing and agonizing, something that would freeze you of horror. It was all the pains he had felt since he had been told about his sickness, all weaved together in an infernal melody, and he just wanted to burst and let himself drown in his sorrow.

He curled on the bed, biting his shaking lip, keeping the cry inside his body, not wanting to worry Cas. His entire body trembled, his fists were clenched, his knuckles white and he just pressed them into his closed eyelids, trying to make the pain go away, wash the ache from his bones. But nothing worked, and he felt more helpless than ever. He suddenly thought that he would possibly lose his eyesight, very soon perhaps, and then he’d be just like an empty shell. And then he’d die, and it would be over. He’d just leave this world and nothing would change.

It was a selfish, pretentious thought maybe, but he wished dearly his death would mean something. Instead of that, he felt as if he was just a small gust of wind, a tiny ray of sunshine. Possibly noticeable by some, but meaningless to many. And then when he’d disappear no one would see it. Just as if he had never existed.

Maybe some clients would hear the news and think “Oh, how sad!” and then they’d buy their usual bread and go on with their lives. He understood he couldn’t be important to everyone, but how dearly he wished to leave a tiny, burning fingerprint on some people’s hearts! Being forgotten was probably the worst that could happen, and here he was, about to disappear and turn into dust when he had barely gone through half his life.

And it was not like the doctors were making it any easier. His few last visits had been all sorts of depressing. If they tried to sugar-coat it a little for him at first, they knew it was useless now. The painkillers had to be changed, as the past ones had become too weak for the headaches splitting his skull, and though they sometimes tried to give him other meds, or incite him to finally try chemotherapy, Dean knew they had given up. He understood, and he wasn’t mad at them. After all, it was a desperate case, and both Dean and the doctors knew it wouldn’t take much longer.

“Only a few months, maybe less” they had said in a very tiny voice, afraid that maybe the words would break Dean, and he just wanted to answer that, cruel and shouted or soft and careful, they’d still make him crumble into dust.

 

On their sides, both Cas and Sam tried desperately to find a cure. As turned out, Cas might be an angel, but Sam had an awful talent in technology, and he would help him in his searching. It was sure quite helpful, as now Cas wouldn’t travel half the world only to discover a particular church or temple had been destroyed centuries ago. Sam would also find new leads on obscure blogs and online books when the material copies had vanished God knew where.

But still, it wasn’t enough and they grew more helpless and desperate each day. Cas even asked some of his brethren, and after each of them gave him a confused look, they all answered the same: it was impossible. Nothing could save a human that was condemned in such way, and as they reminded him, he should have known that, being sent there. After all, he was an angel to the service of Death and his arrival only meant one exit. One that was never _life_.

 

Dean had agreed, though reluctantly, that Cas tried some spells, only if he was sure they wouldn’t be harmful for him. Despite Cas’ frown, he had argued that now or later, he’d still die, so why be worried about him? Despite the ache that it sent straight to his heart, Cas had begun. First, some tiny spells or potions he knew to be innocent but possibly useful.

And then he begun to try the dangerous ones, the one of black magic, of gruesome color and strange smell, mixtures that bubbled loudly in the kitchen and seemed to whisper of a thousand voices. Each time, the dread rose in Cas like a firework as he would pronounce the fateful words or that he’d watch Dean take a sip of the potion, for there would always be a possibility for these experiments to be fatal. He honestly wouldn’t know how he’d react if Dean just dropped dead right before him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But so worried as he was about Dean, he had forgotten to worry about himself. It was foolish, for if he died, then there wouldn’t be anyone who had a small chance to save Dean in some sort of magical way. But his life didn’t matter much, for he only cared about one thing: finding that damn way, that cure that seemed to shine far away in the distance.

He begun to try other spells that were known to be dangerous for the one who cast them. They were said to corrupt, to poison, to _kill_. But just like a tiny line at the bottom of a paper, he didn’t mind, he pretended not to see. He didn’t care that the spells sometimes burned his veins when he cast them, or that his vision blurred and his blood pulsed and his grace shrieked. If Dean asked, he’d just pretend he was tired, nothing more, and yes, he was sure. Everything was alright.

 

Until it wasn’t anymore.

 

It was a dark, stormy evening and Cas was preparing a new spell. Of the blackest type, this one, requiring diverse ingredients from this world and the others, bound by blood and tears. Something was moving with the weather in the distance, he could feel it under his skin, but he couldn’t explain it.

Dean was waiting, sitting on the smooth wooden floor where Cas had told him to be. He watched Cas, his swift gestures, so quick his human eye had hard time following them. There was something so strange about the atmosphere floating around them in this evening, but he couldn’t point at what it was exactly. He just knew that he started at each blinding strike of lightning outside and that each of them cast odd shadows on Cas’ usually so soft face, making his eyes electric.

Finally, Cas came to sit in front of him.

“Ready?” he asked, the word clear but tender in Dean’s head.

Dean only nodded. As always, these experiments scared him more than he admitted. He didn’t entirely know the mess he was getting in, but he knew how dark the forces they were dealing with were. He knew it was magic, things that could get them struck dead like trees in the storm. But he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, a tiny spark of hope shining deep inside him.

Cas began to whisper, a very low melody under his breath made of strange words that only made sense to him. If Dean could have heard him, he’d have been either terrified or fascinated, for it sounded like a dozens voices speaking together, bickering and murmuring and shouting, tongues tangled and hands and claws moving in the air. The air moved a little faster and hotter around them, as if they were now trapped in a ball of liquid fire. Dean’s temples hurt, but he ignored the feeling, he just focused on being calm, his body relaxed, his blood cool and silent.

Cas finished speaking and he turned to take a small handful of some kind of golden dust beside him. He let out another word and with a sharp gesture he threw the dust into the bowl between Dean and him.

 

There was a vivid blow of pure, red light, red as blood, so blinding it seeped through Dean’s eyelids and he couldn’t help but open his eyes of surprise. The shock wave made him shiver, the candles that Cas had lit around them in a circle whipped by some strange force. But his heart actually stopped when he saw that Cas had been thrown across the room and now lied on the floor, motionless.

 

Dean’s breath strangled him and he stood up on shaking limbs to rush towards Cas. He dropped on his knees beside him and rolled him on his back. Cas’ eyes were closed and there was nothing that could tell he was still alive. No breathing moving his chest up and down, no pulse under Dean’s terrified fingertips. It even felt as if the warmth in Cas’ body was slowly rising from it, escaping in some invisible swirls.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, his head so painful he winced, the tears rising to his eyes. He cried Cas’ name again, shaking him like a madman, but still Cas didn’t move. “Cas, c’mon for God’s sake!”

And then he thought it. That they had come too far, that it had to be expected, that one day after all this dark matter they had played with, the world would turn against them. And suddenly he thought that it was the end. His mind raced before him, and he saw himself dragging himself through the last months of his life, Cas cold in a grave underground, dead because of him, dead because he tried to save him. Sobs gathered in his mouth and he shook Cas’ body again, crying his name in an endless circle, and he thought, _God, I can’t lose him_.

But maybe God was listening sometimes, maybe he wasn’t that cruel after all, for suddenly Cas stirred between Dean’s clenched fingers.

Dean’s eyes snapped wide open and his breath itched. He helped Cas sit and as soon as he seemed to settle back into life and reality, the sorrow and fear burst from him.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean shouted out loud, taking Cas’ face in his palms, so desperate Cas looked at him with a little fear, still dazed by his short trip into the Limbo. “You scared the shit out of me! I-I thought you were dead and-and I thought that was it!” He dived his eyes into his, his entire body shaking. “We’re never doing that again, you hear me? Never again!”

Cas opened his lips to answer, before he stopped himself and thought, “I’m sorry Dean, I didn’t know there would be such effects.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Dean said before his hands dropped back on his sides and his body slouched on the floor beside Cas. Now the tears flowed freely on his cheeks as he trembled. “I thought you were dead” he repeated, eyes lost into space, blurred by terror and grief, “I thought I had killed you.”

Cas caught his attention by pressing his fingers into his palm. “It wasn’t your fault, Dean” he thought in a whisper, “I should have known.”

“Maybe” Dean thought as an answer, sounding sorrowful and exhausted and just so afraid. “But it could have killed you. And we both know I couldn’t go on after that.”

Cas didn’t answer, his heart heavy like a stone. He got closer to Dean, his body still feeling heavy and nauseous, but he still took him against his chest, sharing a little warmth. Dean sighed and his head dropped against Cas’ shoulder, one hand gripping his shirt tight, knuckles white of despair.

The last remains of the spell breathed red smokes as Cas thought, “I’m sorry. I promise I will never leave you.”

“I wouldn’t survive it” Dean whispered, maybe more to himself than as an actual answer.

 

Cas released a tiny breath and laced his arms closer around Dean. He will only see in the morning that they fell asleep in that position, tangled together on the cool, wooden floor. But an uncomfortable night was the least of his problem when a silhouette was standing before him in the living room, waiting for him.

“Castiel” she said, voice soft and silky like a river.

He blinked, grace sinking cold and hard like a stone inside him. “Hannah.”

 

**X**

 

Her vessel remained unchanged, which was odd. Something nervous and electric was floating around her, and despite her usual calm behavior, her eyes betrayed something afraid and impatient inside her, her fingertips shaken in a small twitch.

Getting untangled from Dean wasn’t an easy business but Cas managed to do it as quietly and softly as possible, lying Dean on the cool floor, taking a small second to stroke his hair with a tender look upon his relaxed features, before turning back to the other Reaper, face suddenly changing to turn icy cold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice.

“I have come to warn you” Hannah answered and her carelessness proved Cas that she was most certainly using her powers to make their conversations unheard of Dean.

He considered her with a look sharp like a dagger. “You’ve already warned me” he said, his words trembling of poison.

She made a small step towards him, coming out of the shadows to stand in a ray of moonlight. “I have come in emergency, brother of mine. To warn you one last time.”

“About what?” Cas snapped, feeling his patience erode with tiredness and anger.

She gave him a small smile, gesture that actually surprised Cas and left him frozen of confusion, for it looked so sweet on Hannah’s stoic and cold grace. “You cannot go any longer on your experiments. I felt your grace escaping your body. That last spell of yours could have killed you.”

“And?” Cas said, defying her stare.

“And such thing cannot happen. We cannot lose one of ours for a human, especially when it’s already condemned.”

“Not _it_ ” Cas snapped, clenching his fists. “He has a name and you know it. And he’s everything I fight for.”

Hannah gave him a sorrowful look, almost pitiful. “Maybe. But you are blinded by your emotions and you cannot see clearly anymore. You have been hijacked from your righteous path.”

“What if I walked out of it by myself?” Cas asked, raising his head proud to look at her from all his height.

Hannah shook her head, looking truly afflicted. “Then I must do anything to save you, dear brother. There is no saving _him_ , and you know it. It is an impossible task, a burden you cannot bear by yourself.”

“I don’t care” Cas said, his wings unfurling softly behind him, quietly like a rustle of wind and light.

“His time is almost over, Castiel. You have to realize you have been fighting in vain.” Hannah stepped closer to him, her eyes almost imploring him, and for the first time he saw her vulnerable. “You always did as told, so why not now?”

“Maybe I’m tired of being controlled” Cas said, his voice low, but calm, not angry.

Hannah’s wings unfurled now, the room flooded with pale blue light. She was now just a step away from him, her eyes diving into his, and suddenly her hands reached to him. He flinched, ready to fight back, but her fingers only landed on his shoulders in a desperate try. Castiel blinked, dazzled, for the touch of his own kin had been so rare it was now electrifying.

“Please,” Hannah said, her voice blue of sorrow, “I am begging you. Your death would tear me apart.”

“And his would do the same to me” Cas said calmly, tears welling in his eyes. He had always been so right and standing strong in front of his own kind, and now he was melting under Hannah’s hands, breaking in front of her like she wasn’t one of the most dangerous beings in the Universe.

Hannah shook her head of despair, feathers shivering uncontrollably. “But what if he dies? He will, Castiel, there is no other way! He will die, and you’ll still be there.” She gave him a hopeful look. “Will you then come back to reason and return home?”

Cas gave her a look through blurry tears. “I don’t think I’d go anywhere but into the land of Death if that happened.”

A small sob escaped Hannah’s throat, popped so painful and surprising that she suddenly stepped back, a hand against her mouth as if she was afraid her emotions would resonate again. Her eyes shined of pain as she said, “She will be coming, Castiel. And I want you to accept Her. To let Her take him and stop that fight of yours. Promise me.”

“It’s a promise I’m sure to break” Castiel said softly, for he saw how Hannah suffered.

 

Hannah blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek, bright blue against her tan skin. She wrapped her arms around her belly, as if the sorrow had cut her open right there. Her wings opened a little around her, shield glowing against the night.

“I don’t understand” she said, her eyes falling on Dean, still asleep on the floor, curled like a newborn, shaken by bad dreams.

Castiel had a small, joyless smile. “Maybe one day you will. I wish you that feeling more than everything.”

She looked back at him, her eyes deep into his for several seconds, and she didn’t answer. She only stared, her grace flowing all around him, before she took a small, shaking breath. “Goodbye, Castiel” she murmured, her voice tiny and suffering.

“Goodbye, Hannah” he answered, before he reached an arm towards her. “Please, do not worry about me. And more than that, do not _pity_ me. I am happy, for it’s my own decision.”

Hannah’s lip trembled but she still reached toward him, her hand clasped around his forearm, pulses beating together. “I won’t” she whispered before she briefly leaned her forehead against his.

 

A heartbeat and she was gone, only leaving a small glowing feather floating in the air. Castiel caught it in his cupped palm, having a heavy sigh. No matter how hard he believed in saving Dean, Hannah’s visit had worried him more than ever.

Reapers were creatures of Death. Which meant they felt Her coming. And if Hannah had rushed to him in a last, desperate attempt, then She was close.

 

X

 

The day was terribly gloomy. Well, the weather had been awful for the entire week, but the skies had grew even blacker during the past hours. A cold, brutal rain was pouring down, forcing people to run through the streets, wrapping their coats tight around them, keeping their umbrellas from flying away. Thunder rolled in the distance, sometimes booming so hard it shook Dean to the bone.

 

He had been in the kitchen for the entire day. Thing was, though he didn’t entirely hate it, it was not really his choice to be stuck in there. When he lost his hearing, working with the customers began to be difficult. If he couldn’t hear them, then he couldn’t serve them, and then there was no point of being there. Sometimes he cleaned the tables a little bit, but even among the clients he was still kept apart.

He just didn’t feel at ease among people anymore. If his back faced them, then there was no way he could know they were talking to him, and then people would lean a hand on his shoulder, but he wouldn’t feel it either, and sometimes humans were foolish and so did foolish things.

Careless children had pinched his arm to catch his attention. Men had clapped his back as if he was an old friend. Once he had dropped something in the street and a man, after seeing his calling was not answered, had grabbed his arm tight to make him turn around, so tight Dean’s heart had leaped of terror and he had needed long hours to feel right again.

All these little things had turned his last memories of touch into _pain_. Because he couldn’t feel the brush of a finger or the hold of a hand or the stroke in his hair, but he could feel the ache under his skin, and he would even be confused to where it was coming from, for he didn’t even felt the source of it to begin with.

So he now stayed in the kitchen, and his imagination ran wild. He would create dozens of new pastries, trying new mixtures and textures and shapes, his heart still aching a little when he couldn’t taste or smell his creations. But well, it was always so sweet to see the children’s eyes widen when he would bring colorful cupcakes or dripping choux filled with cream to Sam for him to put in the showcases.

 

He felt strange today. Maybe more tired than usual, his temples pulsing, his body feeling just a little colder than before. He checked the clock to see it was nearly six in the afternoon. He sighed and began to clean the kitchen entirely. He then took off his apron and went to say goodbye to the whole team, who held him in their arms or ruffled his hair with affection before finally letting him go.

He then drove home, the night beginning to fall above the wide fields. He entered his house as the stars began to shine, and knelt to his dogs as they came to bark joyfully at him. Cas wasn’t home, he had told him he had to see something somewhere in South America. Dean didn’t like all these secrets, but Cas was like a wolf. He might look human, but there was no chaining him. And though Dean worried, he would rather let Cas roam the world rather than see him try those awful spells again.

He walked to the kitchen and quickly made some coffee for himself, before he walked to his room. On his way, his vision blurred, his eyes burning as if of tiredness, but he pushed the feeling away. He was about to flip the light switch when he heard a low whisper that sounded like a hundreds.

He froze, nearly dropping his mug. It could have been just a trick of his senses, but they were all dead and buried now. A ball of iron settled in his throat, and he prayed God that the illness would not turn him mad too. He hoped he just heard his own thoughts, one popping louder than the others, that was all.

 

He sighed and shook his head. He really was tired. He then pressed the switch, eager to just drop on his bed and enjoy some coffee while maybe watching a movie, waiting for Cas’ return.

Except that when he pressed the switch, no light came flooding in the room.

He frowned. He tried to flip the stitch back and forth, but nothing changed. He groaned. The storm may have messed with the entire thing. He turned around, ready to rejoin the soft warmth and light of the kitchen.

 

And then. He realized everything was black.

 

Pitch black like the thickest night, like the fur of the wolves that had ran after him. He blinked and blinked, but nothing happened, and his heart began to race. He raised his hands before him, finding his way as best as he could in the dark, and put his mug down on the living room table when he found it. He walked along each room like a blind man, hands stretched to guide him as he flipped each switch.

Now his breathing was quick, sweat dripping down his back. He thought, no, no, that cannot be happening. Each sense had disappeared slowly, not out of a sudden. He couldn’t just go blind like this, no, it was impossible. But the more he moved in the house, the more worried he grew, feeling the fear rise in him like a dark poison. And then when he remembered he had his phone in his pocket, it all turned worse.

For if the house couldn’t bring him light because of the storm, his phone would. Except no raw, white blinding glow appeared when he turned it on, and suddenly his hands shook so bad the phone dropped from them, hitting the ground with a thud his damn body couldn’t even hear.

His legs trembled and trembled and suddenly gave up underneath him. He slowly melted to the ground, falling on his knees, tears welling in his eyes as he whispered, no, no, no, _no_.

It was at this moment that Cas fluttered back home. Perhaps he had felt the distress in their link, perhaps he had felt it rippling the waves of their connection, lapping at his shore. He appeared in the living room, wings wide open and glowing and beautiful, but that Dean couldn’t see.

 

Cas frowned at the second he landed. “Dean?” he called, looking around for him. “Why are all the lights on?”

He heard a strangled sob somewhere near him. He frowned deeper and walked around the table to see Dean sitting on the ground, great tears rolling on his face, leaving stains of salt and water on his skin.

“Dean? Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas said, dropping to his knees beside him. He took Dean’s face in his hands, sounding his eyes for an answer, but as he did so, he realized.

Something was wrong with them. These eyes that used to be always so bright and full of life were now faded, looking around rapidly, as if searching for an anchor. And clouded with so many tears, Cas might not have truly recognized Dean, if it wasn’t for the low, chocked voice that came to his ears.

“It’s over, Cas” Dean said, his words swallowed by sorrow. He shook his head, his eyes still fluttering like little wild things around Cas’ head. “Over” he whispered, and then he truly began to cry, his head dropping against Cas, his whole body completely crumbling against his chest.

Cas felt his heart sink inside him, tears burning in his own eyes. He wrapped his arms around Dean, diving his face into his hair, rocking him against his chest in a soothing attempt. Poor attempt, he might say, for he could barely soothe himself, so there was no way he could ease Dean’s grief too.

 

He walked him to the bedroom and lied him down, putting several blankets on his shivering body before he curled against him, wrapping arms and wings around him, humming low even though he knew couldn’t hear him. The vibration of his own voice calmed him a little, as if all his anguish escaped his body through each flare of the melody.

“You’re not alone, I will not leave you, I will fight for you” he thought to Dean, holding him so tight he was afraid he might just break him in two.

Dean’s sobs eased after several, painful minutes. He rolled over to hide his face against Cas, this face distorted by hideous pain, with those wide, empty eyes. His breathing eased, slowed, and Cas thought he had finally fell asleep.

But then Dean said something that finished to break his heart for he said, “I don’t wanna die” in a voice so broken and desperate the wind and rain seemed to cry with him, each living creature aching a little in the dark night.

Cas put a kiss on his forehead, his temple, his eyelids, his mouth. “I will be there until the end” he thought, though he wished for no end at all, “And I love you. _Know_ that I love you more than everything.”

Dean only had a faint cry and wrapped his own arm around Cas’ waist, falling into slumber for he had no more strength to do anything else. He was now the empty shell of a man he had dreaded to become. He couldn’t taste, smell, feel, hear and now see. He was more dead than living. And perhaps sleep would be his salvation for once, washing the sorrow and pain away.

 

Cas sighed and draped his wing over Dean, soon falling asleep too.

 

When he woke up a few hours later in the dark, the moon shining wide and bright outside through the open shutters, his heart froze for a second when he saw a silhouette standing in front of the window. Now he should be used to it, he thought for a moment with false humor. But then the silhouette stepped closer and the moonlight hit its features, and any glowing feeling left Cas’ body, for he recognized the person standing before him.

 _She_ was there.

 

**X**

 

Black skin, black hair, black eyes, black grace. She was a great black hole swirling in space, swallowing light with a goddess’ appetite.

 

Cas felt his grace recoiling inside him. In a strike of lightning, he jumped from the bed and stood between Her and Dean, who was still sleeping of the agitated sleep of the sick and the broken.

“Castiel” She said, before She made a small step to him. She wore a gentle smile, so sweet it might have appeared soothing, motherly even. But everything else about her appearance seemed to outshine her sweetness. She was dressed entirely in black clothes that hugged her silhouette of strong muscles and trembling nerves. And more striking, she held a tall, black scythe. The weapon was thin and smooth as if painted with oil spill, the moonlight shimmering on it, making it look as if it was almost alive, glimmering like a snake.

“I must say I heard a lot about you these days” she added, visibly amused of the situation.

“You have no business here” Cas answered, clenching his fists, his wings spreading on his sides. She gave them a little look, but rapidly seemed uninterested. Yes, wings were pretty and luminous, but they were flesh and blood and bone too, and She didn’t wings of her own, for she could shift and travel between the realms as easily as the water flew, as the wind blew.

She gave him a pitiful look. “Really?” she said, before he eyes dropped on Dean’s asleep silhouette behind Cas. “You do know I can smell death, right? And, I can assure you, that this boy reeks of it from miles.”

Cas barely held back a shiver. He had seen Death before, for his work had crossed path many times with Her, but the sensation was still the same. The feeling of standing in the room with something so great and powerful you felt tiny and insignificant, celestial or not.

“It’s not his time” he said, his voice breaking into a whisper despite his will.

She gave him another soft smile. “Oh but it is. It has been since the disease settled in him. Since he was born, my dear.” She stepped closer, making Cas’ eyes shine of defiance. “You could have let him die the first time, and it would have been over. But, ah, you sweet angels are known to be stubborn. Right?”

“I won’t let you take him.”

She stepped even closer, and suddenly one of Her hands reached to land lightly on his cheek. “It is for the best, Castiel. For him, for you, for everything. You cannot break the balance of the Universe this way. No one has, no one can, no one will. That is the way things are.”

“What if I’m tired of the way things are?” Cas asked, shivering under Her stone-cold touch.

Her other hand came to cup his face and She dived her eyes into his. He thought he saw tiny galaxies spinning in the bottom of them. “I know you care about him. I know your celestial heart gave up to the miracle that is humanity. But believe me, you’re hurting him more than you’re helping him.”

“How?” Cas asked, anger bubbling red hot inside him.

“If you wait too long, his soul will rot and then there’ll be no saving him at all. You won’t even be able to carry him to Heaven, for his soul will never be pure again.” Her eyes grew grave, concerned. “Besides, every creature roaming the world will come for him. They have smelled his soul and now there is no coming back. You must let him go.”

“I can’t” Cas answered, blurting the words in a choked sob. He didn’t want to appear so vulnerable in front of such great creature but he couldn’t help himself.

“The only way to save him is to let him die” She said, and something was lying under her words, some hidden meaning in her voice that Cas couldn’t quite comprehend under the emotion. “Death will be his only salvation, will wash his body, soul and spirit. It will bring him peace. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I can save him, I know it” Cas said, shaking his head. He then clenched his jaw and shook himself from Her touch. One of her hands came to rest by Her side, while the other came to rest against the scythe again, scythe that had been standing alone like a fourth creature in the room.

“How?” She asked sweetly, looking truly sorry for him.

“I don’t know. But I will find.”

 

She stayed silent for a moment, before She dived Her eyes back into his and said, “I do know a way.”

Cas’ eyes snapped open through the tears. “How?” he asked, his heart beating, racing like a wild horse.

“Are you really strong enough to do so?”

“I am” Cas said, his eyes fierce and filled by raw, cold, merciless light.

“Do you really care for him?”

Cas blinked, his breathing raspy, his heart heavy of grief. “Yes. I would do anything to save him.”

She nodded and then stepped back. The wind blew glacial from the open window, the curtains flying soft and white like angel wings into the room. She raised Her eyes back to him, and they were tender and almost sorrowful. But how could Death’s eyes be sorrowful? Could you do such task if you could feel such heart-ripping emotion?

 

Cas couldn’t think much more about it for She suddenly raised her scythe and said, “Well, then prove it”, before she cut the reality open, bleeding it like a lamb. She gave Cas a last look before she turned into a beautiful crow with smooth feathers like blades of darkness. She flew above Dean’s head and then entered the door to the world of the dead.

She flew the door with Dean’s soul like a ribbon in Her beak, and Cas barely had the time to shift into a thread of light and jump behind Her before the door closed, only leaving one of his feather behind, cut clear by the celestial passage like a blade.

 

It came to land on the floor, having for only witnesses the moonlight and a lifeless body, cold on the warm bed.

 


	7. May Death Have Mercy

Castiel may have jumped into the breach as a celestial thread of wind, but he still landed in pure human form when he arrived. The shock of the rough ground against his body cut his breathing and he held back a cry of pain as the tears welled in his eyes. With difficulty, he managed to get himself to a sitting position and he shook his head to take control back over his spirit.

The first thing that hit him was in fact the heat. It was like the air was pulsing, sickening and heavy, feeling like hot lava dripping into his lungs. He took a small breath, thinking that maybe he had just been too dizzy at first but, no, the sensation was still the same, like raw acid bursting into his chest.

And then the landscape finally hit him. His eyes snapped wide open and he looked around, heart thundering behind his ribcage.

Everywhere he looked, red was the world. The earth, dusty and pushed by a brutal wind like in the deepest deserts. The sky, blood-red and threatening, lightning ripping through the thick clouds heavy of crimson, acid rain, the rivers, dark and bloody, lapping at the shores with sticky sounds that sent shivers down Cas’ spine. Everywhere he looked, the cruel color filled his pupils and he felt ill being surrounded by it, feeling as if he had been swallowed by a monstrous beast and was now trapped in its huge belly.

But the worst thing was that he knew where he had landed. He had never really been to that place, but he was _certain_ of it. Too many tales and memories of his brethren filled his mind to be wondering, and he felt a deep dread root in his belly.

He was about to get up, wincing at his scratched palms and sore lungs when the situation suddenly hit him again and he started, his entire body covered by a shiver. He jumped to his feet, the move making the red world blurry and spinning, making him want to break in two and throw everything he had in his stomach up.

 

He turned around and his heart leaped forward when he suddenly crossed Death’s eyes. Dean’s soul was wrapped around Her scythe, small white-blue ribbon pulsing of energy, swirling around the black weapon like a snake of light and stardust.

 

Cas felt his being shatter and he clenched his fists, his wings shuddering of rage. “Why are we in Hell?” he asked, his voice trembling of venom, “He is not meant to go there!”

“Maybe” She answered, “But did you know the human world was closer to Hell than Heaven? These poor humans think they are safe with the ground under their feet, but truly, it’s just a matter of time before it breaks under them.” Her hand then made a small gesture in the air. “Anyway, my dear angel, I have brought you here because it is the only way to know if you truly care about him.”

“I do.”

“You will have to search for his soul through _Hell_. You can take all the time you need. No harm will be done to him, but I cannot promise that it will be the same for you. Am I making myself clear?” She asked, her eyes sounding his, some kind of pain and worry swirling in her black gaze.

“Very” Cas answered, shaking of anger and tiredness and fear and sorrow.

“If you wish to surrender, just pray for me, and I will come to take you back to Earth.” She gave him a small look. “I will not judge you. I will understand. And I will not let him there, I will guide him to his right place.”

“I won’t surrender” Cas cut her off, his mouth a bitter line, vexed that She would thought he’d give up on Dean so easily.

She gave him a soft, comprehensive smile that made him shudder. “You do not know what this place can do to you” She said, before She looked around, frowning at the growling skies. She then looked back at him, her eyes warm and glowing golden in the dim light. “Be safe, Castiel.”

“You won’t take him from me” he said, his eyes growing darker, grace ragging inside him.

 

She didn’t answer, only raiser her scythe to hit the ground with it. The shock wave sent red sand flying around in bloody sparks. Dean’s soul curled around the weapon, coiling like a snake, before it was shot straight to the skies, and then disappeared into the horizon like a great bird, a dream in the morning light. Death gave Cas a small smile before she turned into a cloud of black smoke, and disappeared, sucked into the driveway of realms, he supposed.

He shivered, made his blade appear in his hand. Hell wasn’t safe for anyone, but being an angel was even more dangerous. The demons and other creatures roaming this desolate land would probably smell him from miles and his quest would only be more difficult.

He sighed and with a rustle his wings came to disappear into his bones. He felt vulnerable without them, but at least he was a little more discreet now, the white glow of his feathers too raw in the over-saturated atmosphere of the place. He took a deep breath and gripping his weapon tight, he began to walk, his heart threatening to burst, his eyes stinging of tears.

 

Dean’s absence was the worst thing he had ever felt. When he had travel the world, he had already felt their link stretching too wide, threatening to snap out of a sudden and cut him in half. But there, he wasn’t just away. In the human world Dean had _died_ , he thought with a painful sob rising inside him, and now he was just a little thread of soul, the purest form of him, and unfortunately with a weaker conscience.

Cas couldn’t feel him in the back of his head anymore. Of course, their bond still shone, but dimly, pulsing weakly like a dying light. He couldn’t hear the gears of his thinking, the sound of his heart and spirit. Dean had become like a gentle little river, existing but so terribly quiet.

Cas felt a sudden wave of grief hit him and he bit his tongue to the blood not to crash down. It was too much, all at once. He was stuck in a vicious world that only wanted him dead, without the only person that could make him strong. That was enough to make him want to curl on the ground and die slow.

 

He took a deep breath, shook himself to feel alive again. He breathed and breathed and breathed in the air heavy of sulfur, filling his lungs with poison. Maybe that was all that he deserved for not being able to save Dean. To suffer, to be lost and abandoned by all in a land of chaos and destruction.

He looked around, his vision already blurring with tears, his heartbeats so loud and painful. Everywhere he looked, wide red plains unraveled as far as the eye could see. All plants were dried and dead, and the blood rivers were the only things moving around him.

He didn’t know what to do. Where to begin. Hell was immense, maybe endless if that was where your greatest fear lied. And in that instant, maybe it as his own. That the land would stretch forever under his sore feet, that he would wander without purpose, maybe spending eternity searching for Dean as he would get deeper into the belly of the beast.

He took another shaking breath and clenched his jaw. He realized he couldn’t find Dean on his own. But only one person in that cursed land would know where he was and Cas wasn’t particularly eager to see him. But it was the only way, he told himself. If he didn’t push himself to fight his fears and hatred and anguish, then he couldn’t pretend to be worth of Dean’s love.

 

He sighed and raised his eyes to the red skies, for a brief moment. Ah, how he wished to be as strong as the lightning above. How he wished to feel the glory of the heavenly battles again, to feel invincible, raw stardust burning inside him. But instead, he felt more desperate than ever, and as he began to walk he felt his grace crumbling with every step. This damned world was already playing with him, tugging at his every nerve and vein, the very core of the ground like a whip striking his bended back, his shivering wings.

But Dean needed him. He had to bring him back to the living, to his family. No matter the cost.

 

That was why he then let his instinct walk him to the house of Lucifer.

 

**X**

 

Ah, how Time was a strange and torturing thing on Earth, twisting every creature’s nerve, biting a their bones. It was even worse in Hell. Cas could have been walking for minutes or hours, maybe seconds or centuries for all he knew.

The sky felt low and heavy, weighing down on his head, a blazing red sun making the sweat drip down his spine, his temples pulse of pain. He only wanted to spread his wings over his head and enjoy the little shade of them, but he already felt the dark animals roaming around him, and the last thing he wanted was to catch their attention.

He was thirsty, and hungry, and more than that, so terribly lonely. He had spent the last few months by Dean’s side, for almost every minute. He had felt the touch of his hands, his breath against his skin, he had seen his shiny eyes melting in his. And even when he was away, he had felt him in his mind, bright and warm and wonderful.

But now, he was completely alone, and how he wanted to hold Dean! Just hold him close against his chest, wrap his arms around his waist, bury his face in his neck! The absence was so painful he felt it in his belly, twisting his guts like a sharp knife and just thinking about him made the tears rise in his eyes. That deep sorrow and the tiredness were truly driving him crazy.

 

It was when he was about to fall on his knees and curl on the dry earth that the outline of a city appeared on the horizon.

 

He held his breath, his heart thundering in his chest. It was as if a light had burst inside him and he was now pushed by a force greater than him. He started walking faster, stumbling as his body wanted to give up so badly. He walked and walked, the desert unraveling under his feet, the birds of prey circling around his head. He would not give up, not now, not ever.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally arrived at the gates of the city. He stopped before the tall brown walls, shuddering. It was if he had come to a point of no return, as if he would never be the same if he crossed that line. But the thought of turning back and calling Death never shined in his mind, and he knew the risks, and he was more than ready to take them.

He then entered the city, keeping his grace close to him, his eyes lowered to the ground.

 

One wrong vision that humans had about Hell was that one of an immense, clean place of silver and iron, lifeless. But truth was, the streets were overflowing with life. There were no tall buildings of glass, no roads of marble. No, it was more like the little streets of Morocco or Andalusia – small houses red and white, plants growing along the walls, animals running among the legs of all the people filling the place, hundreds of smells and sounds filling the air.

Most were demons, of course. They had to live somewhere when they were not off torturing souls for eternity. But there were also other monsters, and even some humans who had found the right passages hidden on Earth. Thing was, Hell was the greatest market for everything wrong and terrible on earth.

As Cas walked along the stands, his stomach twisted as he saw jars of blood and yellow bones and strange shapes floating in murky liquids. It reminded him that under that sort of human-looking city, was the true face of Hell with pits of lava and chains and knives. Suffering in its purest form.

As he passed by, he heard dozens of voices shouting in every direction. Some high-pitched, some low and husky. Different languages getting tangled together as each seller tried to sell their goods. There were too many people for Cas to be noticed, but still, some men and women grabbed his wrists, tried to guide him in some dark corners. He shook himself from their grasp and moved faster, feeling the stench of this world covering his skin, the noise like daggers in his brain.

 

Finally, he arrived at the edge of the town, now facing a wide bridge of red stone. A river of the small color was flowing underneath, so large it might have been a sea for one’s perspective. Cas started walking again, glancing around, feeling uneasy.

On each side of the bridge, odd statues seemed to look at him, their lifeless eyes following him like dots of fire on his back. Some represented angels, their gray wings widespread, others showed demons with great horns curling above their heads, and other ones showed creatures that seemed to be the cursed offspring of the two, feathers and blood together.

But most of them showed faces distorted of pain, weak bodies and vulnerable souls under the weapons of grim figures. _Humans_ , Cas thought with a shiver. Of course, Heaven wasn’t the perfect place everyone wanted it to be, but it was still better than getting tortured forever.

He accelerated and finally arrived at the end of the bridge, his muscles hurting under the effort. He was made for flying, not for being stuck on the ground. He clenched his jaw and rose his head to consider the place he was about to enter.

A tall gate of thin golden metal stood before him, some skulls and knives and crows carved into the bars. Behind it a huge castle seemed to reach towards the blood-red skies. The stone of it was black as the night, great towers ending in sharp arrows and crosses, flight of stairs coiling around them, gargoyles perched above the windows, spitting dark waters that turned into red fog in the atmosphere.

Cas took a deep breath again. There was definitely nothing pleasant about being here, he thought as he entered through the gates. He climbed some large stairs of black marble, before he arrived in front of a tall door of onyx, smooth and shining under the dim sun. He looked around, seeing no one guarding it. Well, it seemed understandable, for no one sane enough would dare to come here, not even the demons who would shiver if they were ever summoned in the palace.

 

Cas gathered his strength and opened the door, slipping into the castle.

 

The inside of it was surprisingly cool, considering the furnace outside. The walls were tall, curving in arches above his head, like in a great cathedral. Stained glass windows let the light flood in, but it wasn’t soothing as they were tainted crimson again, casting a dreadful atmosphere into the room.

Cas realized he had been holding his breath as he walked in the long corridors of the palace. He couldn’t keep himself from touching the cold, smooth walls with his fingertips, only wishing he could spread his wings which were much more sensitive. It wasn’t safe enough yet.

He was thinking that he might get lost forever in that endless maze when he came near a room which doors were wide open. Voice resonated inside, and at least he knew he wasn’t alone in that cursed place that sent shivers down his spine. He stopped under the black chandeliers and painted demons on the ceiling. He had never been this afraid in life. Not only because he was an angel in Hell, but because Dean’s life depended on him and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

He suddenly felt very tiny in that immense place, a tiny dot on a planet of fire. The air smelled heavy of sulfur and that same, maddening red sun shone outside, sipping into his eyes. He started to think that if he stayed there too long the blue of them would turn into crimson. He took a deep breath, turned his features cold and determined, and entered the room.

 

It is unnecessary to say that the first thing that struck him was the bodies lying on the floor. Dozens of them, some looking as if they might just been sleeping, others not so much, pools of blood shaping under them. Some were demons or creatures, others humans and to be honest with himself, Cas would rather not know what had brought them to such situation.

There were a few other demons in the room, this time alive. They were all looking at the same point, papers in shaking hands as they exposed what seemed to be projects of laws or plaints. In front of them, on a throne black like the matter between the stars, Lucifer was sitting, and he looked beyond bored.

Chin leaning on his palm, he observed the demons unblinking, his eyes dead, his face closed of all emotion, including interest. To entertain himself, perhaps, he kept on changing appearance, eyes going blue and then purple and then entirely red with no more pupils, features and body shifting in different shapes and colors. His wings were neatly folded behind him, the large feathers draped over his throne, changing in the same intriguing way.

 

Cas thought about announcing himself, but something might have shifted in the air and Lucifer’s eyes moved and crossed Cas’. They opened wide and he sat straight on his throne, considering the newcomer with a surprised expression.

“Well, then, I didn’t see that coming” he said, looking Cas up and down as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “Castiel?”

All the demons in the room turned as one and suddenly Cas was exposed under the stare of dozens of blood-red eyes that considered him with annoyance, if not murderous rage.

He swallowed as discreetly as possible. He could defend himself, but he doubted slaying all Lucifer’s demons would make him find Dean. “Yes” he said, before making a small step towards the throne. “I’ve come to ask you for help.”

Lucifer’s eyes sparked and he considered him with some sort of amusement. “Interesting” he said, before he glanced about the demons and with a look that could kill, he said, “Everyone out. Now.”

 

No one complained, they simply slipped out of the room in silence, only glaring at Cas with eyes full of hatred and contempt. When Lucifer and he were alone, he looked back at him, finally unraveling his wings that came rustling down in a waterfall of light. Lucifer observed the gesture and he considered his own wings that had settle into dirty white. A small second and they looked exactly like Cas’, bright and wonderful. It shot a shiver in Cas’ whole body.

 

Lucifer stood up and walked to a small table of dark wood, poured himself some liquor. He gestured at Cas with the bottle, and the angel shook his head. He got closer to him.

“I need your help” he said again, trying not to sound too desperate. Despair was what Lucifer fed on.

“Yes, I had understood that part” Lucifer answered, shifting into a small blonde woman, staring at the bottom of his glass pensively. “Why do you need me for?”

Cas took a deep breath. “I’ve come to bring a soul back to Earth.”

Lucifer turned into a brown-haired man. He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really?”

“Yes. And you’re the only one who can help me.”

“Am I?” Lucifer answered, changing into a tall woman with long curls the color of fire.

Castiel felt his blood starting to boil. Lucifer was clearly entertained by the situation and was playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

“Please, tell me where I can find him.”

He changed into a blond man with eyes so dark they appeared black. “Tell me,” he said without answering Cas. “Who is that human? I guess you didn’t come all this way for fun.”

Cas swallowed hardly. “He’s someone I care about.”

Lucifer turned into a woman with hair cropped short. He stared at Cas, his eyes shining of mischief. “I’ve heard rumors” he said, considering Cas with a small smile. “Stories in Heaven of one of my brothers getting too fond of one of his missions. It was you, right?”

Castiel stared at him, unblinking. “Yes” he murmured.

“And I guess the human was _him_ ” Lucifer said, and suddenly he turned into a shape so familiar Cas felt his breathing being ripped out of his lungs.

 

Dean was now staring at him, and Cas kept himself from running to him, to wrap his arms around him and fly away from this cursed place. The illusion was so stunning anyone could have get caught, but as he stared, he realized there were flaws too. The green eyes were too cold, the smile too cruel, the way he stood too threatening and despising. It was nothing like the wonderful sun-filled human Cas knew.

“Yes” Cas said in a chocked breath before his eyes dropped to the ground, as he couldn’t bear the green gems staring back at him anymore. “Please, tell me where he is.”

“Well, he arrived a few hours ago, and he’s now in the Temple of the Lost Souls, where all the wandering ones are, waiting for someone to guide them out.”

Cas stared at him, speechless.

“What?” Lucifer asked, still wearing Dean’s face, and God, it hurt so awfully!

“I-I didn’t think you would tell me so easily.”

Lucifer shrugged. He then seemed to be thinking, and suddenly he changed again, bored of this skin. As the green eyes and freckles left to leave space for steel gray eyes and curly black hair, Cas felt himself crumbling inside. No matter how bad it made him suffer, he wished he had seen Dean a little bit longer, just to hold on the vision of him for a few more seconds.

“Well, I guess I’m just in a good mood” Lucifer said, sitting back on his throne with his glass. Hands pale as moonlight smoothed the long red dress of his female vessel.

“How do I get there?” Cas asked in a small voice, afraid he’d make Lucifer snap, afraid he’d lose any chance to save Dean.

 

Lucifer snapped his fingers. Out of nowhere, a door of black wood covered of strange silver patterns appeared. “There,” he said with a smile. “This will lead you directly to the Temple.” And as if to prove it was true, the door opened, letting a long corridor of stone appear behind it, despite the fact the door frame was standing in the middle of the room.

Cas thought for a second, hesitating. “Don’t you ask anything in return?”

Lucifer made a gesture of his hand, chasing his doubts away. “Don’t worry, brother” he said, changing back into his usual form. “Kin has to help each other out sometimes, right?”

Cas nodded, silent. Something wasn’t quite right. Yes, Lucifer was his brother but Cas wasn’t foolish. He knew the Devil’s help was never free, that there was always a price to pay for what he was giving you. That was why the situation seemed so strange.

Yet, he had to believe Lucifer was willing to help him with good grace. He was his only chance to find Dean, and bring him back. Without him, he could wander for days, months, years without ever getting close to Dean’s soul, curled somewhere in the dark furnace. As much as he disliked trusting Lucifer, he had no other choice.

 

He bowed slightly to his brother, wings spread bright and glowing above his head. When he looked back at Lucifer, this one’s wings had turned deep black, the tip of the feathers bright red as if dipped in blood.

Lucifer gave him a smile that sent shivers down Cas’ spine, despite the apparent warmth of it. “I wish you good luck, Castiel. I hope you will get what you want.” He paused for a second and his smile widened, his eyes sparkled. “I hope nothing will go wrong.”

 

Cas nodded again and he stepped to the stone door. He could feel Lucifer’s stare diving into his back, the mischief and black grace piercing holes in his backbone. He released a deep breath and he stepped in without turning back.

He was afraid that if he would, he would immediately regret asking him for help. After all, wasn’t he the Father of all lies?

 

**X**

 

The door immediately shut behind Cas with a loud, vibrating sound that echoed in all his bones. He shivered, but kept on walking. His steps were first quick and hurried but as the corridor kept unraveling, his pace became steady and careful.

There was something truly suffocating about the place, and he felt his grace curling into a ball inside him. All he could see was that long hallway spreading before him. The walls and ground and ceiling were made of the same smooth, black stone, and the air was damp and chilly. He would feel as if he had been buried alive if it wasn’t for the torches hanging on the walls, the dancing flames casting some reassuring light and warmth around, though they were disappointing beacons of hope.

They did cast light and warmth, but they were separated by enough distance from one another that Cas had to cross an entire space of pure blackness before reaching the next, sending his body and soul into an evil roller-coaster.

 

The loneliness kept closing in as he walked, and his mind began to play tricks on him, the darkness whispering, hissing, chanting in his ear when he was completely alone. Sometimes he heard the steady drop of water, or a small breath drawn beside him, or the fall of a small stone on the ground, but Dear, he would never stop walking, in fear of what he might find behind him if he turned back.

He was tired, and he was hollow, and he was desperate. He felt trapped and out of options. What would his brothers and sisters think, seeing him here, crawling underground like a bug, reaching into the dark like a blind man, all to save one human?

Oh, but the thought of this human kept him marching! It felt like he had been walking for hours, and his knees shook, and his eyelids fluttered, but Dean’s face only had to appear briefly in his mind for his heart to leap forward, taking his sore and exhausted body with it.

But at last, when he felt like he would crumble directly onto the cold ground, his bones melting into the darkness, he felt a small thread of wind against his skin. He shivered and his eyes narrowed. A tiny ribbon of light escaped from under a black door that looked exactly the same as the one he took to enter the hallway. That was enough to turn mad, but Cas refused to make early assumptions.

 

He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

 

A raw light came flooding in as he entered the room, and he had to shut his eyes after spending so much time in the darkness. Slowly, he blinked, and let a little light seep through his half-opened eyelids, raised a hand above his eyes to hide them from the cruel sun.

When he finally settled to the evil glow, he looked around, taking his bearings. He was standing in an immense room, all walls and floors and ceilings of the same black stone as the corridor. Only one large window let him glimpse outside, the dry red land and rivers of blood nightmarish in his tired pupils. He then noticed the walls were slightly carved into hundreds of little boxes, each looking like something was glowing inside, piercing through the thick stone.

 

Before he could investigate any further, he was suddenly very aware that he was not alone in the room.

 

He turned back swiftly and found himself standing before a hooded silhouette, all dressed in black. He could not see their face, only the horns curled above their head, piercing through the fabric of their clothes.

He knew who the person was. Just like Hannah was the head of the Reapers from Heaven, the demon was the one leading the ones from Hell. Castiel and his kind made sure some souls reached Heaven and were not ever altered, while the demon Reapers watched over the most cursed human souls, the ones that committed the most despicable crimes, and made sure they would end up in Hell. That there would be no salvation possible for them. Cas thought it was a little extreme, but he had to admit it was fair in some cases.

“What are you doing here, Castiel?” the demon asked, his voice low and deep. “Have we failed our task? Did a sinful soul escaped our grip?”

“No” Castiel said, making a small step to him. “I’ve come to take a righteous one back to Earth.”

“Really?” the Reaper said, and Cas imagined his brows raised high under his hood. “Does the Master agree with that?”

“Yes. If you need a proof, he let me walk to you.”

There was a beat of silence. “Yes, I suppose so.” He sighed. “Well, then I guess I have no other choice but to serve you.” He gestured in the air and a door appeared, this time made of pure, bright gold. “You will pass through this door if you truly want to bring your human back to life.”

“I do” Cas said, determined, eyes fixed strong on the Reaper.

 

This one stood quiet for a moment and when he spoke again, something odd and almost sorrowful echoed in his voice. “He didn’t tell you, didn’t he?”

Cas frowned. “Who? And tell me what?”

The Reaper sighed again, heavily. “If you are as wise as angels are supposed to be, you will turn back now and forget everything about it. I heard Death had dropped a soul not so long, so I suppose it is the one you have been looking for. I promise you no harm will be done to it, so turn back now.”

Cas stared at the silhouette, lost in pure confusion. “I don’t understand.”

 

Again a silence. Then, slowly, the silhouette raised his hands and took the hood from their faces. Two bright red eyes stared back at Cas, and he realized the Reaper had unmasked himself to be closer to him, to not only be a shapeless dark form showing its power over him.

“To get back on Earth, a soul needs a guide. It never happened before. No angel and no demon cared enough about a human to do it, and humans would be too weak to even survive the trip to Hell.”

“But I am strong enough” Cas said, shaking his head of confusion. “What are you not telling me?”

The Reaper took a shaking breath and he made a small step to Cas, diving his eyes into his, horns gleaming under the raw, red light. “The path back to Earth is incredibly painful to the one who guides. It empties you of all your strength, your spirit.”

Cas held his breath. “I will die?” he asked, shuddering.

“No” the Reaper said softly, “But when you’ll come back to earth, you will be like the weakest creation the universe has bore.”

Cas frowned, confused. “I don’t-”

 

“You will become human” the Reaper said and his eyes were now deep blue, his stare full of pity as they both realized Lucifer had tricked Cas into believing he could get out of Hell with Dean so easily.

Cas closed his eyes, took a small, shaking breath in. “If I come back to Earth with Dean, then I will become human? I will no longer be an angel?”

“Yes” the demon whispered. “Your powers will be gone. Your wings, too. You will experience pain and sorrow, and you will age. You will die, like any human does.”

Cas felt himself breaking in two. God, the demon’s words made him more terrified than he had ever been, and he wanted to turn around and run away as far as possible. But then, he thought about Dean, Dean with his gentle eyes and warm hands and soft soul, and he knew he would do anything for him. He would suffer, he would bleed, he would die. He would unravel everything he ever was, change himself to the bone, trade his pulsing, shiny grace for a tiny soul if it meant he could live with Dean until the end of days.

“I will do it” he said so strongly the demon was shaken by a shiver, as if Cas’ words had brought a hurricane into the room. “But you won’t tell him.”

The Reaper stared at him, sounding his eyes to see the doubt, the regret. But there was nothing, a blue sky clear of birds, of clouds, of pain. “I promise. It is not my choice to make.”

“Thank you” Cas said, having a small smile, sad and tired.

“Do not thank me” the Reaper said in a murmur, giving him a last sorrowful look before pulling his hood over his head again. “Are you sure it is truly what you want to do?”

“Yes” Cas said, and he had no fear, not anymore.

“Then I shall free the soul you seek” the Reaper said. “What is their name?”

“Dean” Cas whispered and his name burned on his tongue, familiar like honey and tears and kisses. “Dean Winchester.”

 

The demon had a small nod and walked to one of the walls. He reached to the smooth surface and put his palm flat against it. He then lowered his head and dragged his hand over the small boxes, waiting to sense the soul he was searching for. He spent a few moments like this, fingers brushing against the stone, before he finally stopped in front of one of them. His fingertips pressed its surface and the box slowly opened, letting a small ribbon of white-blue light escape its belly.

 

As it flowed from the box, Cas held his breath and looked at the Reaper. “It is not only Lucifer’s fault. Death knew what would happen too.”

The Reaper shook his head and his sorrow felt solid in the air. “Yes, she did know. But she didn’t send you here for the same reason.” Through the thick hood, Cas felt as if the two bright eyes were fixed strong on him, glowing in the dark. “Lucifer did it because he loathes angels, and he would not miss an opportunity to break one. But Death-” He stopped, stayed silent for a few seconds as if he was taking in all the information floating in the threatening skies of Hell. “Yes, Death did not want to break you. She gave you a last chance to save the one you love so desperately, for she knew losing him would be the thing that would truly shatter you.”

Cas stared at him, breathless. The demon was right. Death never gave a second chance, she took and took, but never gave. But this time, she had given him the power to save a soul, to bring it back to Life. And yes, she knew the price he will have to pay, but she also knew he would do anything to save Dean. In a way, she saved them both.

 

The little thread of light finally landed on the floor, curled like a dog on a soft bed, before it shaped into a ball and suddenly rose to turn into a human silhouette.

And then Cas was standing before Dean. At first, his body was a little translucent, like a hologram, and he could see the blood red skies behind him and the windows. But then it seemed to anchor itself in reality, or at least this realm of reality, and then Dean was standing flesh and bone, or rather soul and spirit in front of him.

“Dean?” Cas whispered, tears welling in his eyes. It felt like centuries had passed since he had last seen him, and he realized how much he missed existence itself in his presence.

Dean blinked several times, confused, before his eyes focused on Cas and they opened wide. “Cas?” he asked before he seemed to realize the room he was in. He looked around, his lips parting as he saw the tall stone walls and huge windows with the deep red sky stretching as far as the eye could see.

Cas didn’t want to rush him, but his fingertips itched and his heart burned and suddenly he crossed the room and collapsed against Dean’s chest. His arms found their way around his waist and his fingers dived into his back, and he buried his head against the crook of his neck, shaken by brutal sobs.

“Are you OK?” he managed to ask in a voice cut by tears and relief and fear.

Dean needed a few seconds before he could return the embrace, feeling as if he had been ripped from his body and mercilessly thrown back in. He frowned, holding Cas tight against his chest. “I-I think so… Are you?”

Cas didn’t answer, only shook his head against him. “We’re getting out of here” he finally said, drowning in the dark of Dean’s ribcage.

Dean’s worry only grew deeper. Never had he seen Cas in such state of despair. “Cas, what’s going on?” he asked, looking around beyond Cas’ head. “Where are we?”

The answer didn’t came from Cas but from another voice in the room that made him start. “You are in Hell” it said, and when Dean turned he saw a silhouette entirely dressed in black, eyes hidden among the fabric.

Dean held his breath. “What?”

Cas stepped away with great difficulty, his wings shivering uncontrollably. “Dean-” he began, raising his great blue eyes to him, his voice soft and soothing.

There was a strangled cry in Dean’s throat. “I’m dead?” he asked, his eyes glancing nervously around, at the place, at the hooded silhouette, at Cas.

Cas wanted to make it easier, but there was no way out of this. “Yes” he whispered and such shock moved Dean’s chest he was afraid it would break him in two. “But we’re getting out of here,” he repeated, “You’re coming back to life.”

“But how?” Dean asked, sounding Cas’ eyes, voice full of fear and confusion.

Cas had a small, chocked sigh. “It’s a long story. I will tell you everything, I promise, but we have to leave.” He looked around, shuddered. “I don’t like staying too long here.”

 

As an answer to his words, the door the Reaper had made opened with a dreadful creak. “This the way” the demon said, his voice then turning concerned. “But I must warn you, you must walk on first, and then Dean. And no matter what, you must _never_ look back.”

“Why?” Cas asked, frowning. “How will I know he is still here? That nothing happened to him?”

“You may speak” the demon calmly said. “But you must focus at any cost on your way back to life, to earth. If you concentrate on him, you will anchor him in the Limbo, and then I am afraid there will be nothing that could save him. He will be _trapped_.”

Dean shuddered. He looked at Cas, uncertain. “Are you sure we have to do this?”

“There’s no other way” Cas answered, his eyes darkening. He thought of everything he would lose at the moment he would begin his journey back to the realm of the living. He would lose his very nature, the core of himself. And though it was nothing compared to what he would have felt if he’d lost Dean, there was still enough reasons to be afraid.

Dean noticed the change in his so sweet gaze but he suddenly felt scared of asking what was wrong, as if the truth could break him.

 

Cas reached out to him and laced his fingers with his. “We’re going to get through this, alright?” Dean nodded, searching some comfort in those sorrowful eyes he knew so well. “We will come back to Earth, and you will be cured, and you will live for many more years.”

Dean’s eyes snapped wide open. “I will be cured?” he repeated, speechless.

“Yes. The pains of your life have been washed away when you… died. Now you can start all over again.”

Dean considered the revelation, dumbstruck. He then managed to give Cas a small smile. “Well then, let’s do this” he said, pressing Cas’ fingers, his anchor into strength and life.

They both walked to the door, hands still tied together. They stopped on the doorstep and Cas turned back to the Reaper. “Thank you” he said, his wings having a small beat of acknowledgment.

The demon bowed his head. “I do what I have to do. But I am glad I have made my part in Life, for once.” He raised a hand to gesture at the door. “I wish you a good journey back to the living. Be careful.”

“We will” Cas said before he nodded at the demon. It seemed the air was briefly filled with unsaid words, terrible promises between them, and it seemed blood red eyes met bright blue ones, and then it was gone and Cas gave Dean a last look to gather his strength, before they both stepped through the door and it closed with a roll of thunder behind them.

 

**X**

 

“Your creepy pal could have at least given you a light or something” Dean complained.

 

Cas rolled his eyes, but it was true the way was pitch dark. They now had been walking for a little while and the blackness was everywhere. Even his wings wouldn’t cast their usual glow, as if the world around was a hungry black hole.

He felt the darkness fill his lungs, his eyes, his mouth. It was if it seeped into his body with every breath he took. He had no way to guide himself into that cold night, only keep walking straight ahead, trusting his instinct to find the way out.

And more than that, the need to turn back was like an itch under his skin. He wanted to check on Dean, to make sure he was alright, but he couldn’t, or he would be lost. He could only rely on the sound of his voice, the feel of his fingers in his, still clutched tight.

 

“Do you think I could make the _I’ve been through Hell_ joke when we get back?” Dean asked with a little laugh, but Cas heard the distress in his voice.

He pressed his fingers in his palm. “We will get out of here, I promise.”

There was a small silence and then a sob. “I’m scared Cas” Dean said and his words echoed in the dark.

Cas had to bite his tongue not to turn back and take Dean against him, hold him tight, chasing his fears through kisses and lullabies.

 

But before he could do or say anything, something moved in the dark. He heard Dean hold his breath right after and the two of them stopped, Dean’s hand clutching his so tight he could break the bones and turn them to stardust.

“What was that?” he whispered.

Cas shook his head, breathless. “I don’t know” he said, trying to look around, but it was if he had become blind. There was no light, no dust floating in the air, not even bright apparitions of colors like when he closed his eyelids.

A new rustle echoed, closer this time. He could practically feel Dean’s fear seep from his skin, flowing all around.

 

Suddenly, a high, shrieking noise rose, twisting Cas’ veins, making his grace nest into the dark of his chest. It sounded afar, and then coming closer, and then leaving again, as if it was circling around them. It sounded like a broken violin resonating in an abandoned asylum. Like a cry in the belly of a very thick forest at night. Like the sound of the universe slowly consumed by darkness.

And then, a laugh. Distorted, evil, the one that would come out of a mouth filled with blood, dripping and dripping on the ground, fresh flesh still hanging from wide open maws.

Cas’ breath itched in his throat. “Come” he said, tugging at Dean’s hand, “And don’t stop.”

 

They began to walk, faster and faster, their steps rushed and stumbling. More sounds came to echo by their side, laughs and footsteps and heavy breathing and flutter of enormous wings. Cas himself felt terrified. There was something truly agonizing of not being able to see what was playing with them, yet he was almost glad of it. He was afraid of what the light might unveil.

They began to run, as fast as they could, and the world kept growing louder. It was so loud it pierced their skulls, making them wince of pain. As predicted, Cas felt his strength starting to unravel like a ripped ribbon. And God, it was just not the right time. He had to protect Dean of whatever was lurking in the dark, he couldn’t afford to be weak now.

Dean’s breathing was heavy behind him, and something brushed against Cas, and Dean had a strangled cry as Cas supposed the _thing_ had touched him too. He ran and ran, poison in his eyes, pain in his heart, and he raised a hand to reach in the dark, hoping he might fall upon another door, this one leading to earth, to light.

But nothing cool or smooth touched his fingertips and he kept on running, taking Dean with him. He felt exhausted, he felt empty. He wanted to curl in the dark and lie there for a few centuries, just a small rest for his weary soul. The sounds grew louder around him, and he couldn’t even hear his own thinking anymore, and how he wanted to give up, but no he couldn’t! No, he had to fight against the night and keep on running.

 

And then Dean’s hand left his, ripped from his grasp by some invisible force.

 

Cas stopped running. “Dean!” he shouted, his voice broken in a cry of pure terror.

Nothing answered but the low whispers in the dark, the flutters, the claws sharp on the walls and ground and ceiling. Cas turned round and round like a carousel, and he had been foolish, for he couldn’t see Dean in the dark, there was no risk, no. He shouted his name again and again, and he kept spinning, searching for anything, hopping Dean’s silhouette might just shape itself in the dark.

A suddenly flare of light made him start and he turned to see two rows of torches coming alive on each side of him, illuminating the paved way ahead of him. The burning light spread behind him, filling the room and Dean was still not here, and Cas kept shouting his name until his mouth bled and his eyes glanced around in some feverish terror.

 

And then he was suddenly pushed forward, so desperately his heart nearly leaped forward.

 

“Go, go go!” Dean shouted, forcing him to run.

“Dean!” Cas said in choked breath. He pushed his heels into the ground to stop moving, and he began to turn back. He wanted to see Dean, and he wasn’t thinking right, and this world was playing with him, but he needed to see his eyes, to make sure he was alright.

“No!” Dean cried. “Don’t turn back, Cas!”

“Dean, please, I need to” Cas begged, his voice cut in two by sobs.

“Cas, I’m begging you. Don’t turn back” Dean said, his hands on Cas’ shoulders. He stopped and suddenly he put his head between Cas’ shoulder blades, in the roots of his wings. “I need you! _Now_!” he sobbed. “Please.”

 

The ache in his voice seemed to break whatever devilish spell the black world had cast on Cas, and suddenly everything was clear again. He found Dean’s hand, grabbed it tight. “I’m here” he said and the two of them began to run together, hearts pulsing at the same rhythm.

Something warm and sticky flowed from Dean’s hand, and Cas’ heart clenched at the thought that perhaps it was blood, but he kept on running. The world had lighted up, hoping he would make a mistake but now the way was cleared for Dean and him to find the exit, and he took his chance.

He raced through the alley paved of black stone, and he didn’t look anywhere else but ahead of himself. He didn’t think of anything else, no matter how close the creatures with horns and wings and twisted smiles came to him.

Tears flowed on his cheeks as he felt his grace seep from his skin, escape like water under the sun, and then a vivid pain went off in his back. A feather came flying in front of him before it landed soft on the ground. He didn’t stop to look at it, to pick it up. It was useless. He heard a gasp of shock from Dean before he said his name alarmed as more feathers were plucked from his wings, falling in a bloody trail behind him.

He couldn’t think about that now. Soon he would be wingless like the humans, he would be a bird fallen from the nest. He couldn’t start regretting what he had not yet lost, no.

He would not weep now for the door he was waiting for suddenly appeared in front of him. Tall, black and shiny as if painted with the night itself. He held his breath and both Dean and him ran faster, at the top of their lungs, pushing onto the last bit of strength in their tired muscles and broken bones.

 

Quick, quick, the creatures were getting angrier for someone was escaping their grasp for the first time. Dean and Cas felt their claws against their scalps, their hands against their bodies, their breaths against their necks.

Fast, fast, or the blood would be shed without mercy. Already, it was flowing from the cuts on Dean’s skin, and the beasts roared behind them. They howled and suddenly the door opened ahead of them, letting raw, white light flood into the room, and the beasts cried of wrath.

 

Cas shut his eyes tight and with a last beat of his broken wings he pushed himself through the passage, taking Dean with him, fingers sewed together by threads like solid gold. He didn’t look back, no never, for he knew they would never leave each other’s side. Not anymore, not for anything, not for even a minute.

He held his breath and the light swallowed then, great and beautiful, the monsters roaring like the tide behind them.

 


	8. So This Is How It Feels To Be Reborn

The first thing Dean felt when he woke up was the pain. It was so great and burning in his belly and lungs he just lied on the ground, wincing against the fire growling inside him. It was as if a hole had opened in the sky and he had been dropped from the clouds: a long, painful fall through the atmosphere before he had finally landed like a broken little thing on the earth.

His eyelids were heavy, as if little stones were weighing down on them, as if some celestial being was keeping them closed with steel-cold fingertips. They fluttered, trying to make reality seep into his head, but it was harder than usual. As if he was waking from a long, long night of sleep filled with nightmares drenched in blood and sweat.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he managed to open his eyes, blinking rapidly against the sudden, brutal daylight. And suddenly everything seemed to rush towards him and he held his breath.

 

He _saw_.

 

He saw the soft golden light piercing through the trees, and oh the trees! The green of them! The details of each leaves, the moss at their feet, the sky so blue above!

He managed to get his sore body to a kneeling position and he looked around, stunned. It was if he was living again, living a new life that he had never experienced, even before the sickness came. Perhaps it was just that he missed _seeing_ so badly the love of it was now coming back to him a hundred times stronger.

And he heard! He heard the birds chirping above his head, the wind singing through the evergreen canopy, a little stream of water lapping somewhere near him!

And he felt! The sun, warm on his face, the breeze cool and soothing, the damp, soft earth beneath his legs! He reached a shaking hand to the ground and he held back a sob when he felt the dew on the fallen leaves, beading on his fingertips like little creatures, the soft water cupped in his shaking palms.

He took a deep breath, terribly afraid, but God, his senses were back! He smelled the rich perfume of the earth, full of rain and grass and sweetly rotting vegetation. Tears welled in his eyes and when one of them fell upon his lip, he could feel the sharp salty taste of it, and then he knew. He knew he had been cured in some strange way, but did he care? No, he couldn’t begin to worry or wonder now. He had been robbed of the very core of his being and now he was whole again, and that was all that mattered.

 

Slowly, the memories came back to him, quietly settling back into his mind like friends that never truly left. He remembered waking in a wide room covered by stone, and he remembered a silhouette dressed entirely in black. He remembered a corridor cold and dark before flames flared and lit the way, and he remembered claws snatching him away into the blackness behind. When he looked at his forearm, it now bore four large scars, blood falling drop by drop on the ground, staining the green leaves in red.

It was a mark that will perhaps never leave and perhaps it would make him afraid for a while. But he knew it was also the proof he had survived. That he had literally been to Hell and back. That thought made a smile tug at his lip and his face lightened up. He was alive, for God’s sake! He was alive and well, and now he wanted to celebrate existence itself, rejoice of everything it was giving him. All he wanted to now was to enjoy every moment of it.

 

He turned around and suddenly his eyes fell upon a very familiar silhouette. His smile faded and worry grew in his place. He crawled to Cas and rolled him on his back, only to face motionless lashes and quiet breathing and skin pale like the dead’s.

Suddenly, a flash of memories burned his retina. He remembered the feather detaching itself from Cas’ great wings, and then all the others following one by one, like leaves in autumn, shaken by a brutal wind. He remembered Cas’ muttered cry of pain, he remembered the burst of grace and feathers when they both crossed the black door.

He frowned, his lungs tight of fear. “Cas?” he murmured, shaking his body. Surely he must have dreamed it all, such horrible thing could not have happened. Right?

But when Cas didn’t answer, he felt himself sinking into a sudden well of darkness. “Cas?!” he cried, this time loud and desperate.

And suddenly, a thought. Something dark and whispering inside him, telling him that was it. That he had played too many damn times with Fate and now he was paying the price in pain and death. It almost made him laugh. How could he have ever thought he could get away so easily? How could he have ever thought he could come back from the dead, completely healed, and keep everything he ever loved too?

“Cas!” he cried, sitting him up to take him against his chest, cradling his face against his neck, his fingers knotted tight in his hair and clothes. “You can’t do that to me now...” he whispered, tears blurring his vision.

Glimpse by glimpse, his mind was filled of memories of Cas, of the time they spent together. He remembered the first time they met, in that soft, dark evening, and how Cas’ eyes had seemed to glow in the shadow. He remembered the way his chest began to warm up every time he got close to him, every time Cas spoke or laughed or breathed. He remembered his lip brushing against Cas’, and then the ache, the wide wings spreading into the night. And then the lake, the rain, the kiss. The warmth of Cas next to him, his bright eyes looking softly upon him when he woke each morning.

He remembered losing all his senses, his bearings, the very core of himself, but always Cas was there. A bright presence by his side, following him like his shadow. And God, the link between them! Strong and beautiful like a rope of light, keeping them together no matter how far away they were from each other.

 

That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be the end.

 

They still had so much to live. There couldn’t be another path than eternity spent together now. And Dean wasn’t sure he could hold onto life if Cas wasn’t there anymore. He had become essential to him, like the very air he breathed.

He rocked Cas slightly, pressing him close to his chest, trying to get a little warmth into him. “You have to come back” he whispered, his tears making Cas’ hair damp, shiny under the soft light. He clenched his fists, grasping Cas’ shirt tight. “Damn it Cas, why would you go where I can’t follow?” he said between gritted teeth.

He had no wings, no grace and even if he had, he didn’t even know where angels went when they died. It squeezed his heart, to think that maybe Cas was destined to turn into stardust and be thrown into the cold, cold space. Somewhere far away where he couldn’t reach for him. And perhaps, yes, he still could raise his head and stare at the skies above and see him shine in the night, but no, it wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t feel his arms around him, wouldn’t see his eyes and smile bright like the sun, he wouldn’t feel the sunshine that he brought into his chest every time he was close.

 

And suddenly, as if his fear of the sky had lightened up the whole world, Cas suddenly stirred against him, taking a small, choked breath as his eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling Dean’s neck.

“Cas?” Dean blurted, the angel’s name strangled in his throat, his mouth tasting of blood and ash and tears.

Cas started at this sudden sound and he blinked rapidly, his eyes darting all around him to take his bearings. They then stopped on Dean’s faced, only blinking once to chase the sunlight away.

“Dean?” he whispered in a small voice.

Dean let out a broken laugh and held Cas close to his chest. What were the odds that he would get alive with Cas, and that nothing wrong would happen? That Cas would be safe and sound, not having lost his memory or some other twisted thing of the sort?

He moved back to stare into Cas’ eyes. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, his hands cupping his face.

Cas took a small breath in. “Yes, I think so” he said before he looked around, visibly confused. “Where are we?”

Dean looked at the forest too, looking at the green trees and golden light. “I don’t know.” He frowned a little, for he was sure he had died on a winter day, but perhaps spring had been closer than he had thought.

 

He helped Cas getting up and together they looked around. “I think we should get back to your family, before they get worried” Cas softly said, tangling his fingers with Dean’s.

“I agree” Dean said, putting a hard kiss on Cas’ mouth, just enjoying the taste of honey and sunshine of them, before they both started walking out of the clearing.

The forest wasn’t really a forest, but more of a little wood, a little something with trees huddled up together. It wasn’t thick or threatening like a maze you’d be afraid of getting lost into. As they walked into the warm light and soft breeze, Dean almost forgot he had been dead not so long ago, and he and Cas were running through Hell, God knows what monsters following them closely.

They finally emerged from the little woods, facing wide fields of bright emerald green. Dean immediately recognized his house in the distance and his heart leaped forward. He couldn’t wait to come back to a normal life, with his beloved family and friends and dogs. Wake up each morning with fresh coffee and soft pastries, fall asleep every night with a belly full and warm and not clenched with sorrow and terror.

 

“I am glad to see you back into the world of living” a voice suddenly said, pushing him out of his reverie and he turned around, heart beating fast.

A woman he did not knew stood before him. She was entirely dressed in black, and held a long and sharp weapon in her hand. But despite this threatening appearance, her eyes were warm, her smile kind.

“Who are you?” he whispered, feeling the magic and inhuman nature of her prickling against his skin.

“Death” she said, before she had a small laugh when he started, his eyes opening wide. “Do not worry, I have no more business with you” she said, her voice gentle.

He swallowed hardly. “Is it because of you that I am back?” he asked. She nodded. “But-but… I died at home. And I’m here now-”

“Does it really matter where you’ve been? Does the past really interest you that much?” she asked and Dean understood there were things he could never understand, that a body left empty in a bed had moved through space and he was now back into it, as if nothing ever happened.

“No, I guess not” he said, lowering his eyes, feeling overwhelmed.

She smiled, and turned to Cas. “I must say I’m impressed that you succeeded. Not that I didn’t believe in you, but it takes great courage to do what you did.”

Cas looked at her, solemn. He stood silent for a moment. “Thank you, for giving me a chance to save him” he said, bowing his head at her.

She had a small sigh. “You know, I used to think that the Universe followed rules. Rules that could never be broken” she said before her lips were tugged into a thin smile. “But now I have the proof you do have a choice in Life, and I am glad I have been a part of this rupture.”

“And I will owe you forever for that” Castiel softly said, making a step towards her. “Some day we will meet each other again and I will not put you in so much trouble, I promise you.” He then reached her hand to her.

Death blinked, completely stunned by the gesture. It was a sign of respect, of affection even, between angels. A feeling of kinship, meaning they protected and cared about each other. During her long, long life, all she knew was the fear that every creature felt towards her. And now the circle was broken.

Her fingers gently wrapped around his forearm, and his did the same. “I hope that day will not be too soon” she said, smiling at him. She stepped back and nodded at the both of them. “I wish you a good life” she said, before glancing at the house behind them. “And do not worry, I took care of it all.”

 

Before they could ask her what that meant, she disappeared into a cloud of black smoke, only leaving a few leaves ablaze behind. They looked at each other, took a deep breath and finally began to walk through the fields.

 

The grass was tall, so green it almost hurt their eyes, and the sun was bright and raw like a golden coin thrown into the sky. They arrived by the house, and Dean stopped, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. Was he ready to come back to a normal life, with no more pain, no more loss?

A golden glimmer caught his eyes and he turned to see his brother’s car parked in front of his house. He frowned, puzzled. What was he doing there? They had talked the day before, wishing each other a good week end, and they weren’t supposed to have dinner or anything. He glanced at Cas and saw that he was equally confused.

They both took a deep breath and climbed the few stairs to finally arrive at the front-door. Dean stopped, his heart thundering behind his ribs. Cas pressed his fingers in his palm, trying to comfort him, but when he turned, he saw that the angel looked more tired than ever, deep purple shadows under his eyes that looked dim for the first time. Dean shook his head, released a heavy breath and finally came into the house.

 

The door opened on his dogs who had stopped in the entrance, staring at him with such wide, expressive eyes Dean felt unsettled by the almost human look of it. But then the strange sensation broke when they both started out of their stillness and rushed to him at the speed of light. Even Gunner moved his stiff paws as fast as he could, and soon Colt and he jumped into Dean’s wide open arms as he knelt to them, a large grin breaking on his lip.

“Hey buddies” he greeted them, stroking their furs, falsely wincing as they copiously licked his face. “Yeah, I’ve missed you two for like the night I was gone” he joked, but as he glanced to his side to see Cas hugging the dogs too, he knew he had missed this raw feeling of home for _months_ already.

 

And suddenly, “Dean?”

 

Dean rose his head and his eyes met his brother’s. Sam was standing in the hallway, a bag of dog food in one hand, his eyes wide open, blurred by tears. His hands shook and suddenly the bag fell from his hands with a thud, kibble scattering all across the floor for the dogs’ greatest joy.

Then Dean blinked, and God he realized he was staring right back at Sam, and he had heard him speak his name. How could he even begin to explain what happened to him? Well, at the very least Sam was aware of the supernatural, so maybe it would not be too hard to explain everything to him, Dean thought as he stood up.

 

But then Sam immediately walked to him and took him into a bone-crushing hug, suddenly sobbing hard and loud like a child against his shoulder. Dean felt all his breath leave his lungs and he frowned, wrapping his arms around his little brother, confused.

He had seen Sam cry a few times in his life, of course. When he hurt himself as a child, when Dad had left them, after his first heartbreak, or when Eileen had an accident and Sam thought he had lost her forever. But there, he couldn’t even comprehend what brought these brutal tears to his baby brother, this gentle and sunshiny soul who was usually the brightest.

He clapped his back gently, having a tiny confused smile. “Hey, what’s going on Sammy?” he said and Sam felt so small against him, like a broken little creature.

“Are you alright?” Castiel whispered next to him, visibly equally puzzled.

Sam rose his head and looked at Cas over Dean’s shoulder, and then he broke into more awful sobs and wrapped an arm around Cas, pulling him into the hug. Dean and Cas exchanged a look, frowning. There was definitely something they had missed.

“Hey,” Dean said, “Did you really miss me that much since yesterday?”

 

Sam had a strangled sob and he stepped back, giving him a look so full of ache Dean started. “Did-did it really felt that long for you?” Sam asked in a small voice, all his body shivering.

Dean frowned, looked at Cas who was staring at Sam, his eyes completely darkened by a deeply-rooted frown. He looked back at his brother. “Sam, what do you mean? I’ve been gone for a night, that’s all.”

Sam shook his head, his glance dropping on the floor. Tears rolled on his cheeks and when he looked back at Dean, his eyes seemed to be as old as Time itself. “No, Dean” he said, before taking a short, choked breath. “You’ve been gone for much longer than that.”

Dean blinked, unsettled. “What?”

 

Sam looked at him and with a voice weak as the breeze outside he said, “It’s been a year, Dean.” He looked back between the two of them. “You’ve been gone for more than a year.”

 

**X**

 

Dean felt as if he had been dropped from the sky once again, his lungs suddenly tight, crushed under iron and gold.

 

“What?” he blurted, unable to utter anything else.

Sam wiped the tears that kept rolling down his cheeks. “I swear I’m not lying Dean” he said, pain overflowing in his voice.

Dean shook his head, too stunned to properly react. “No, no I believe you. It’s just that… it feels impossible.”

“Time works differently in Hell” Cas suddenly murmured and when Dean turned to him, his eyes were damp with tears. He looked back at Dean, looking as if he was slowly breaking down. “I should have thought of that. I’m so sorry.”

Dean felt his heart leap forward. “Hey Cas, don’t say that. You could not know so much time would pass” he said, grabbing his hand to press it in a soothing way.

“She told me I’d have to wait for you two to come back. She just didn’t tell me how long” Sam said, his voice still echoing of brutal sobs.

Dean frowned and looked back at his brother. “Who told you that?”

“Death” Sam said, before his body was shook by a violent shiver.

Dean froze entirely, soaking in dread. “Death came here? To talk to you? But why?!” he asked, feeling his breath rising, his heartbeats racing.

Sam had a small sigh and he wiped his tears again. He stepped back and gestured at the couch. “Just… just sit, please. And I will tell you everything” he said and in that moment he looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

 

Dean and Cas did as he told without arguing. Truth be told, they felt immensely tired and only wanted to lie down and sleep for days. They sat side by side and Sam sat in front of them in one of the armchairs. He stared at them for a few seconds, his eyes slightly wider than usual, as if he still couldn’t believe they were there.

“About a year ago” he began after a small sigh, “I was coming to your house when I saw someone standing in the middle of the road. She was just... standing there, looking at me. So I came out of the car, and then she told me she needed to erase my memory, for your own sake.”

Cas blinked, confused. “Why would she do that?”

Sam sighed again and leaned his back against the soft pillows. “Just imagine if you had disappeared for a year and no one would have known where you were. We would have been worried.” He gave Dean a small smile. “And imagine explaining to everyone why you weren’t sick anymore.”

“True” Dean said, before he frowned. “But what did she want to do, really?”

“She only wanted to erase the memories of you being sick, losing your senses and everything. And replace it with you and Cas saying you went on a vacation, or something” Sam said, having a poor smile. “Or moved away, in case you never came back...”

Dean felt his heart miss a beat. “So how do you remember the truth?”

Sam’s eyes darkened. “Everybody else forgot it, because she didn’t give them the chance to remember. But before she could wipe my memory, I begged her to let me remember.” His bottom lip trembled, as if he was about to cry again. “She told me I could wait for days, months, years even to see you again, or that maybe you’d never come back.”

“But you still refused to believe a lie?” Cas asked in a murmur.

Sam gave him a gentle look. “Yes” he said, before his voice broke. “But to be honest I wished I didn’t sometimes. When I’d come home to Eileen, or go to work and everyone would be going on with their business, thinking you were somewhere in the Bahamas. And… and I just knew it wasn’t the truth, that you were… dead, and Cas was gone, and sometimes it was just so hard not being able to tell anyone” he said, looking down at the ground.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean whispered, his eyes showing how shattered he felt inside.

Sam looked back at him with a tiny smile. “Don’t be. It was my choice. And even if if I sometimes thought I’d never see you again, deep down I _knew_ you’d come back one day.” His phone then rang, making him start. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “Ah, it’s Eileen. I told her I was going to take the dogs on a walk by your house, so they wouldn’t miss it too much” he admitted with a smile. “But I’ve stayed longer than expected...” he said, his words trailing off as he looked around the room, melancholic.

“Go” Dean said. “I don’t want her to worry” he said, and he felt his heart pinched by how badly he missed her and his whole family. He couldn’t wait to meet them all again, even if the lies would be heavy to carry.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, looking unsure, but he started again and stood up when his phone rang again.

“Yes” Dean said with a small laugh as he and Cas got up too. “I promise I won’t go this time” he said, and the little joke made him suffer inside.

Sam sighed. “You better not. Or I will come search you two myself and I won’t be as gentle” he said giving them an amused look that still reflected the pain he had been through. “But well,” he said, putting his jacket on, “I know you’ll be safe. You still have your guardian angel, right?” he asked with a smile.

Dean’s lips broke into a smile but next to him, Cas started as if Sam’s words had been daggers into his heart, and he looked away, eyes lost into space.

 

Sam came to hug his brother and Cas together, pulling them close, wrapping them in loving arms as he clung to them as hard as he could, keeping the tears from flowing again. He stepped back a few moments after, his face illuminated by a wide smile. “I’m so glad you’re back” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Dean put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and pressed it in a soothing gesture, and then broke into a small laugh when Sam’s phone rang again, signaling a new message from Eileen. Sam looked down at his phone, almost fearful, before he smiled back at them. “I should really go now” he said, walking to the front door and opening it. He then paused, and give Dean a hopeful look. “Can I come back tomorrow? You know, just-”

“’Course you can” Dean answered with a grin. “You can come at any time.”

Sam sighed and right before he turned back Dean could see the tears had rose in his eyes again.

 

Once the door had closed behind his brother, Dean dropped back on the couch, Cas by his side. He passed an arm behind his shoulders, pulling him close. But when he looked at him, Cas was staring into space, looking uneasy and… _hurt_?

Dean frowned, the sunshine falling back down into him. “Cas, are you OK?”

Cas blinked and he turned to him. When he saw the worry on his face, he tried to smile, but it was not very convincing. “Yes, I am alright.” He then considered Dean, looking concerned about him. “How are _you_?”

Dean shook his head. “No, no, we’re not talking about me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cas. I know you well enough to know when you’re feeling like crap.”

Cas seemed to think deeply, biting his bottom lip. “I assure you I’m fine” he said, but his voice sounded lower, weaker this time.

“Cas” Dean said, and seeing Cas still wouldn’t turn to him, he pressed him against his chest. “Hey, look at me.” Cas finally stirred from his reverie and looked up at him, eyes wide and blue. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yes” Cas whispered, looking down again.

“Then tell me” Dean said, his hand leaving Cas shoulder to interlace their fingers together. “Please. I don’t like to know you sad.”

Cas closed his eyes, his features tense. “I don’t think it’s a good idea” he murmured.

Dean frowned. “What? Why?”

“You will be angry” Cas finally admitted, eyes still shut.

Dean felt a pang of worry in his chest. “No, I won’t. Please, tell me.”

 

There was a moment where silence stretched its great gray wings and then Cas took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked back at Dean. His eyes were too bright, too glassy, and it made Dean afraid. Something was wrong, he knew it. He _sensed_ it.

“Cas” he began, but Cas cut him off.

“I’ve done something to get you back on Earth” he said, and his eyes filled with sadness.

Dean frowned even deeper. “Like what?” Seeing Cas’ mournful face, his heart leaped forward. “Is it something bad?” His eyes opened wider, and he took a tiny, shaking breath in. “Did you kill someone? Or-or sell a baby’s soul or something? Is it that bad? Because even if you did that, I wouldn’t mind ‘cause I’m freaking glad to be alive, even if that would still be messed up. But what I mean is that I wouldn’t see you differently, OK Cas?”

He finally stopped and took a deep breath. Cas’ lips were pulled into a smile and he had a small laugh. “No, I did not do any of these things. But I’m glad you thought of them first, because now I know you won’t be too mad at me.”

Dean pressed his fingers in his palms. “Hey, come on. You can tell me everything.”

Cas took a trembling breath and finally turn to meet Dean’s eye. “To get you back, I… I had to leave something behind.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Cas, confused. Cas paused, his heart racing furiously. He then gathered his strength and said, “I chose to exchange my grace against your life.”

 

There was a great moment of silence, with Dean looking at Cas confusingly, and Cas looking at Dean hopeful that he would understand without further words.

 

“I don’t understand” Dean whispered, his eyes sounding Cas’. His hands trembled in Cas’ and it felt as if he tried to control himself, as if he tried not to accept the truth slowly rising as an evidence inside him. “No” he then murmured, shaking his head.

“Yes, Dean” Cas said and he had a small, sad smile. “It means I’m no longer an angel.”

There, the words had been freed. They floated heavy in the air, carrying a stench of pain and grief and sacrifice, of things won and things lost. Dean stared at Cas with eyes wide and starry, shaking his head slow as his features tightened of horror.

“No” he repeated in a murmur.

 

Cas frowned. He didn’t understand: Dean should be relieved it did not take him anything worse, something bloody and sinful, something utterly tragic. No, it was just a small sacrifice at a very human scale after all, and yes it hurt like the great hellfire, but it was worth it, yes, and this pain was nothing compared to what some souls endured, and it was nothing compared to what a truly awful, murderous act could have been.

But then, why was Dean reacting this way?

 

“Dean” Cas murmured, searching his eyes.

“Cas, tell me you didn’t do that” Dean answered in a breath, tears welling in his eyes.

Cas felt his heart stop. “Dean, it was my choice, I needed it to save you-”

Dean didn’t let him finish. His hand slip away from Cas’ warm palm and he turned away from him, eyes lost into space as they became like great green oceans.

“I wasn’t worth that much” he whispered, perhaps rather to himself than to Cas.

This one felt the sorrow as a physical ache in his chest. He got close to Dean again. “You were” he told Dean. “You are worth everything to me.”

“Maybe” Dean said, closing his eyes, features tense of grief. “But just… just not _that_.”

And suddenly, he realized that Cas was missing from his mind. The angelic power that fueled their connection was gone, only leaving a faint whisper in the wind of his soul. It felt like an absence, like a hole in his head and he ached to know what Cas had given up for him. He felt so ashamed to be the downfall of such creature, of such light, that he wanted to curl in the dark and be beaten bloody by all the beasts coming from the skies above. He _deserved_ it.

 

Suddenly, he felt Cas’ soft fingertips against his bare arm and it sent sparks under his skin. For a second, he felt just like he used to, when he was navigating in the waters leading to Death and Cas was still a being of pure, raw light. He felt as if Cas’ soul was bubbling against his own, sending colors and melodies in his bloodstream.

“Dean” Cas softly murmured. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. It was my choice, entirely mine. I couldn’t have lived without you, you mean too much to me.” His hand fluttered to Dean’s face and turned it to him, forcing Dean to open his eyes and look at him. “I’d rather live as a human with you than stay an angel and face life without you.”

Dean couldn’t hold back the painful sob that rose in his throat. His hands came to cup Cas’ face and he put a shaking kiss on his mouth, tasting him as if he had never done it before.

And he was _real_. Cas was solid, alive, blood and bone and soul. He was there with him, there in his arms as he wrapped them around him. He felt him warm and breathing soft against his neck, and he felt his fingertips tracing patterns on the back of his head. Their bodies rock slow together in a soothing way, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation, feeling as if he had dropped from the skies again, but only to land in a hot bubbling pool, slowly drowning in tenderness.

Yes, it hurt him to know Cas had lost everything that he was once, and he couldn’t even begin to understand what it felt like. But they were together, and in the end it was what mattered, nothing else. They had survived Dean’s slow downfall, and the lies, and the obstacles. Hell, even. So now there would not be anything standing in their way, no monsters and no guilt, no fear and no overflowing sorrow.

 

Later, in the deep of the night, neither of them could sleep. They both lied on their backs, staring at the ceiling as their chests covered in sweat rose and fell slowly. Their hands were tied together and they just enjoyed each other’s touch, light by the moonlight and breeze.

“It just feels so weird, you know” Dean said after a moment, breaking the silence. Cas looked at him, questioning. “To be back, I mean. It feels like it was all a dream. And… I can’t believe all the past months really happened to me.”

“I agree” Cas murmured, his fingertips tickling Dean’s palm. “It just feels like it happened lifetimes ago.”

Dean gave him a small smile, but his eyes then clouded a little. He was quiet for a few seconds before he swallowed hardly and said, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Cas smiled at him. “Always.”

Dean took a small breath in. “How does it feel? You know, to be... human?”

Dean felt Cas stiffening beside him, as if the words brought him great pain. But when Dean was about to brush off his question, Cas then relaxed and exhaled deeply. “It’s strange. It feels as if I was the same… but different. And I feel everything differently. I used to feel connected with the whole Universe, and now it’s all so quiet.”

“Isn’t it boring?” Dean gently asked.

Cas shook his head. “No, it’s peaceful.” He looked back at Dean with a smile. “I used to envy humans, of the way they lived in ignorance, without worrying about the world around them. Now, I know how it feels.”

“But…” Dean began, searching for his words. “Don’t you miss your powers? Your wings?”

Cas’ eyes clouded a little. “I cannot lie to you. Yes, I miss them, terribly. It feels as if everything I ever was had been taken from me, washed up and put back into me, like I’m a stranger in my own skin.”

Dean felt his heart heavy in his mouth. “It sounds terrible.”

To his greatest surprise, Cas shook his head. “No, not terrible. Strange, yes. I will probably need some time to adjust, and of course I will miss some things about being an angel. And being human definitely has its perks.” His eyes glimmered of amusement. “My back hurts right now. I never thought I would ever experience that.”

Dean let out a sunshine laugh. “Yeah, you’ll probably have to get used to that.” He smiled, diving his eyes into Cas. “But really, are you alright?”

“Yes” Cas answered without hesitation. “I hurt, but I will heal. And do you know how?” he asked, and Dean shook his head. “Because you’re with me. And now I will live knowing I saved you, that I brought you back to me. And that’s just enough.”

Dean felt his heart overflowing with tenderness and he took Cas against his chest, their bare, warm chests soft on each other, their breaths and heartbeats following the same rhythm. Dean sank his fingers in Cas’ hair, buried his nose in it and took a deep breath. It was still the same smell of light, of sunshine, and it filled his whole being like syrup dripping, like honey melting in his bones.

“I love you” he murmured against him.

“I love you too” Cas answered, putting a kiss a little under his collarbone, where the thin skin hid a heart pulsing like a wild animal. “More than everything in the world.”

 

As they fell asleep together, rocked by the slow melody of the wind outside and bathed in their own warmth, Cas felt just so blissful. He felt as if his soul might burst of joy, his mind pop from his head with fireworks. He felt so light he had no doubt he could grow wings again if he wanted to.

But, well, what good wings would be when his place was right there, on Earth?

 

**X**

 

After coming back into the world of the living, Dean thought his problems would be over. After all, what could be worse than suffer from an illness that twisted his head and made him numb and empty, and of course, _die_?

 

It turned out that coming back to a normal life was harder than he thought.

He first took a day off before going back to work, as he still felt quite dizzy after his trip to Hell. But the day turned into two, and then into three, and finally into a whole week. Sam didn’t seem to mind, but Dean could tell he and Cas were worried. Truth was, Dean felt like a complete stranger in this world, in his own life.

The night before finally going back to work, he rehearsed what he was going to say to his friends and family, and it made him so sorrowful and full of anguish he did not close his eyes once.

He wanted to arrive and shout, “No! I was not in the freaking Bahamas! I was sick and then I died, and by some twisted miracle I’m back!” but he knew it was just impossible. Of course he was grateful to Death, in a way, for having to explain how he was mysteriously cured of a deadly disease would have been a real pain, but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of mute agony inside him.

No one would know his real story, except for Cas and Sam. For all the people he had ever crossed paths with, he had just been gone for a whole year, and no, he had always been so healthy and happy, really what a lucky guy!

But Dean could still feel what it had been like, this sickness devouring his guts, his bones, his head split in two by evil headaches, the blood dripping from his nose, the blackouts. He remembered the pills he swallowed dry, and they kept coming and coming, and he remembered becoming deaf, and blind, and hollow.

But no one would remember that. No one would know what truly happened to him, and it angered him, it pained him. He had lived so much more than what people knew, and he could never tell them. That was now his burden, to hide and to lie for he had lived too much for the common of mortals.

 

The first days and weeks were incredibly hard. He had to learn to work again, after spending so much time locked in his house, blind and deaf and just so miserable in his own skin. His hands trembled, they were clumsy and his eyes watered as the strong of vanilla would float to him, or the songs of the birds outside would echo to his ear, or the taste of deep, black chocolate would sting his tongue. People thought it was his passion talking, and perhaps it was that too, but truly, he had missed life itself so terribly he wouldn’t dare take it lightly now.

Sam and Cas helped during this time. They were the carriers of his secret too, after all. When things would get too heavy, Dean could always lean on his brother and together they would talk for hours, of the past, the present and the future, what had been and was now gone. And every time Dean left, his chest felt a little lighter, for he knew he would always have someone to count on.

But though Sam was the ears that welcomed Dean’s bitterest sorrows, Cas was always the one who could understand him best. It was something no one could understand, a look between them, a silent conversation through the brush of their hands. Cas understood the loss of Dean’s story, and Dean understood the loss of Cas’ very nature. They mourned together, held each other when the pain felt as great as a wave swallowing an entire land.

And yes, Cas’ angelic grace had been the fire that fueled their connection and it was now silent, but not entirely gone. Yes, neither of them could hear the silver thread like chimes between them, but they could still _sense_ it, tense and bright and beautiful like an arrow stuck in both their bodies.

It was something in the air that even them could not explain. They just _knew_. It was something echoing in the dark, a breeze, a whisper, a remain of something that once was. With that faint sound, Cas could know when the blue invaded Dean’s heart, and Dean would wake when Cas’ silent sobs would shake the silver thread at night.

Slowly, they both began to heal. The scars of the past – blood and feathers – became smooth and pink, and together they began to walk the streets of the world with a light step, as if nothing ever happened. Of course, they never forgot, how could they? They did not pretend it never occurred, they just put the memories in a small box of their minds and let it sleep there. It was no use to wake what could bring them pain.

 

And so the years passed, unraveled like a long, silky ribbon of gold.

 

Together they stood, and watched life pass like a gentle river. Love bloomed and love faded. New humans came to be and old ones left this realm. Hair turned gray, skin grew thin and rippled like water, eyes grew cloudy like ponds full of memories like little fishes piercing the surface out of curiosity.

People left their road to take another one, and people stood by them until the end. Ties were created, and some came loose. Cradles were built and graves were dug. Storms shook the walls of their home and sunshine flooded by the windows. Barking came and go with time, the rooms filled with the frantic races of little excited claws.

But Dean and Cas were not just observing this stream, they were standing right in the middle of it, soaked knee-deep into the waters of existence. Their hair too grew gray and their skin too turned thin and rippled. Their eyes grew cloudy and their hands shaky, their steps slow and unsteady. Much things changed, history evolved and they could not do one thing to stop it. They were just little fishes in this stream, too small to fight against the current, so they let it carry them to the great jump into the sea.

But though life evolved without them, changing their bodies with it, they always stood together. Even when their eyes already flickered of sleep at the very first spark of nightfall and all their bones ached and their hearts were slow like little beasts, they were never two, but one.

 

One evening in particular, they were clutched tight to each other, more than usual. Something had shifted in the air, in their bond. Something had whispered with a soft familiar voice, and they were too afraid to let the other go away now.

They were curled on the couch, frail body against frail body, unsteady heartbeats and difficult breaths. Everyone they knew had left now and they had lived beautiful, wonderful things, and they had lived things so incredible people would think them mad if they ever told them; but now it was time to let it all go.

“It’s been a nice life” Dean murmured, his green eyes glimmering shyly under the television’s electric glow.

Cas stirred by his side to look at him. It was difficult to imagine he had once been an angel, all grace and halos and wrath. He looked so small and vulnerable now that Dean felt a sharp pang in his soul. Truth was, he had never really forgave himself for what he had put Cas through.

“It couldn’t have been better” Cas whispered in return, his lips drawn into a small smile, as bright as it had always been.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

Cas nudged at him in the ribs. “Yes.” His eyes softened, melting into Dean’s. “I could not have dreamed of a better existence, because you were always there by my side. Without you, my life would have been meaningless.”

“Ah, you’re being sappy” Dean laughed but his eyes watered of emotion. “If I hadn’t been there, you’d have been freaking immortal.”

Cas cocked his head as he had always done, eyes narrowed as if in thought. “But what’s worth an eternal life if it’s empty?” He smiled again. “You were all that I needed.”

Dean opened his mouth for another sarcastic remark, but closed it as his heart warmed of pure adoration. Instead, he passed an arm around Cas and brought him closer to him. “I still can’t believe you are mine” he finally whispered after some time.

He felt Cas’ mouth draw up into a smile against his chest. “Not even after all this time?”

“Never” Dean said, and clutched Cas closer against him.

 

Silence fell on them as the night was draped above their home. Their heartbeats slowed, their breaths too. Everything became so still and quiet they could hear the air dancing around them. The world became dark, a gentle veil slowly falling on their eyes as life slowly began to flutter away from them.

“I’m scared, Cas” Dean whispered after a moment, a little sob getting caught in his throat.

“Don’t be” Cas answered, wrapping his arms around him. The link between them ringed like a clear silver bell in the foggy morning, faint but there, still there.

Dean buried his nose against Cas’ hair. “I love you” he said, desperate, his heartbeats painful as he tried to drown the fear in the scent of Cas.

“I love you too, Dean” Cas answered. “Always and forever.”

And on this words, their eyelids closed the door to the human realm and after one last breath and heartbeat, their souls escaped their bodies, light as feathers. Death took them carefully in Her palms, keeping them warm and safe on the way to the sky, a smile floating on Her lips.

“It was still too soon” she whispered as she opened the pearly gates for them. She felt no pain as she watched them fly away like insouciant birds into the ether. They were free now.

 

 

Dean opened his eyes, and the air was warm, and light was golden. He blinked several times and saw he was seating in a large field. The grass was tall and bright green, colorful flowers scattered across this ocean of emerald. He raised his head and the sky was deep blue. The wind was silky, creating waves around him as he stood up, heart beating lightly of awe.

Suddenly, a cry. His name, shouted. He turned back and suddenly his brother was there, young as he had been when Dean first left life. A blink of the eye and he was wrapped in Sam’s arms as he whispered his name again and again.

“You’re here” he said, and Dean could hear in his voice how long he had been waiting.

Then, Eileen came, and Charlie, and Benny. His mother came and cupped his face in her hands, tenderly, and her eyes watered as her lips broke into a smile. All the people he loved were there, wrapping him in their arms as the wind kept blowing soft and gentle.

 

And the skins had been smoothed, the aches erased, the diseases blown away. There was just no place for pain anymore, no more loneliness and-

 

Oh, dear God, he turned around as his heart leaped forward – who knew hearts could speak so loud even in the afterlife? – for he realized the hole, the void swirling in his chest.

Where was Cas? Where was he? Where could he be?

Dean looked among the faces but none was Cas’. He saw worry pass through the crowd too, as they all knew there would be no rest if he was left without his other half in here. His heart ached and bled, and he thought, no that couldn’t be it. He couldn’t die in Cas’ arms to wake in an empty sky.

Oh, but what if angels could not follow humans? What if they flew elsewhere? Oh but no, Cas was no longer an angel, he had to be there, he could not be gone, he could not be away, he had to be-

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean held his breath and he turned back, the fields opening wide before him like a sea of green.

Before him stood Cas, eyes shiny and brighter than ever, a wide smile on his mouth. He ran through the grass and flowers and suddenly he was collapsing against Dean’s chest, arms wrapped tight around him.

Dean closed his eyes, laughing of astonishment as a few tears bead on his lashes. No, no, the Universe was not so cold after all, it had been kind in the end. Cas was there, with him, for eternity. There was nothing cold in that, just pure, raw light.

 

Dean let out a sigh of ease, and he felt a soft touch on his arm.

 

He opened his eyes, let a little light and blue sky seep into his head. Under the warm breeze, Cas’ wings moved, the feathers gently disturbed by that sweet caress. The feathers spurt out from his back, great and shiny like waterfalls, changing colors under the sun, glimmering like thousands of diamonds.

Dean let his fingers run through the jewels of them, and they were warm and soft and _real_. Cas shuddered and hide in the crook of Dean’s neck, a little laugh warming Dean’s skin, and they were young again, and his heart was beating fast, his belly was filled with light.

The fields were silent around them, and rocked by the murmur of the wind, tracing patterns on Cas’ wings, words of love and survival, Dean let himself melt totally in the embrace. Cas was whole.

 

Dean smiled. _And so was he._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end...  
> I must say this fic was particularly challenging. I'm quite used to do pure fantasy while keeping the atmosphere of the show, but mixing reality and supernatural elements this way was much harder than I thought. I'm glad I finally managed to put a decent end to it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, and don't hesitate posting your thoughts, comments and questions! It's always a pleasure to read them! :)
> 
> See me on tumblr: atenebrae


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